Guide You Home
by Missgoldy
Summary: A routine mission in Mali turns deadly, with the Planeteers injured and separated before they even begin. The gang will need to draw upon their courage and resilience against adversaries who are using increasingly more lethal means of retaliation. CHAPTER THIRTEEN UPLOADED. This is a dark and gritty take on an eco-mission gone wrong.
1. Chapter 1

Hi there lovely people. Now that I've finished **After the Fall** , I'd planned on continuing **Still Breathing**. But this fic seems to be a little louder in my head, demanding to be written.

So I have surrendered to it's insistant whining for attention. Not sure where it's gonna go, but lets head there together.

Hope you like it.

The title is taken from the beautifully haunting Coldplay track "Fix You"

Cheers,

Sarah xxx

Disclaimer: I don't own CP or any of the characters. I definitely don't make any money from this modest hobby.

* * *

 **Guide You Home**

Chapter One

Wheeler couldn't shake the thought, the overwhelming feeling of dread that had been slowly seeping into his subconscious.

The American crouched behind a pile of timber pallets, the strain of the day's events evident on his pale, sweaty face. He risked a quick glance over the top, worry creasing his brow as he realized that Kwame was no longer in sight.

 _Shit._

He pursed his lips, looking down at his mud and blood-streaked hands and cursing the fact that his ring was currently no more use than a cigarette lighter. It simply wasn't working, merely a small flame dancing from the centre of the ring. He wondered what that meant.

 _Shit. Shit. Shit._

He slumped against the pallets, using his good arm to steady himself as he considered the implications of his distinct lack of fire-power. Wheeler lowered his head, resting his chin on his knees as several possible scenarios danced wildly through his head.

 _Pollution. Negativity overload. Connection's broken. Ring's broken. Hope Gaia kept her receipt. Faulty goods, man. No exchanges, no refunds._

His thoughts had now taken on a hysterical edge as tiredness and worry crept in.

 _God, I hope she's all right._

A scream issued from the direction of the hanger and he froze, listening and straining to hear something more. Anything. But the only sounds that greeted him were the monotonous beeping from the fork-lifts travelling between the docks.

The American gritted his teeth, wiping his forehead and face with the sleeve of his shirt. He registered the sharp, throbbing pain in his left arm and collarbone. He had assumed the arm was broken, or at the very least fractured due to the amount of swelling over the past few hours.

The collarbone was a whole other story. He'd been impaled by a piece of shrapnel, both injuries rendering his ring finger practically useless anyway

He'd had a bad feeling about this mission from the beginning. A sense of unease, a feeling of dread- from the initial meeting in the Crystal Chamber, to prepping the vehicle and packing the supplies.

Even the light brush of Linka's fingertips over his hand had barely made an impact as he had passed her the last of the heavy canvas bags. As Kwame had started the pre-flight checks, Wheeler had hoisted himself into the vehicle and dropped into his seat, gazing sullenly out the window.

 _Bad things are gonna' happen._

* * *

Civil war had broken out in southern Mali, so the eco-alert was dangerous enough without the need to involve eco-villains. Trying to stay diplomatic while encountering rival gangs armed with machine-guns was challenging enough. Adding Looten Plunder and Sly Sludge into the mix had been the icing on the cake.

A typical half-baked scheme involving the exportation of rare animals, Plunder had really outdone himself this time. His last shipment of 'product' hadn't made it to their destination alive. Plunder hadn't ensured adequate air-flow inside the shipping container and the poor local wildlife caged inside had slowly suffocated to death.

This was what had brought them to their current location: two landing strips in the middle of nowhere, with several large hangers and corrugated shacks punctuating the vast surroundings. The heat here was oppressive and the humidity rose from the tarmac in glimmering waves.

The trip to Mali had been mostly uneventful, but Plunder had obviously anticipated their arrival.

The Geo-Cruiser system quickly detected the heat signature from the missile streaking towards them but by then it was too late. The alarm systems began to sound and Gi had gasped, horror etched on her face as she turned and pointed out the back window, towards the telltale white cloud following the metallic object roaring towards them.

"Guys," Gi had shrieked, a hysterical edge to her voice. "We've got incoming!"

Kwame hadn't even bothered giving his customary warning about combining their powers. Piloting the Geo-cruiser with one hand, he simply raised his fist and started the process, fear and terror etched on his strong features. Wheeler followed his lead as the missile impacted, tearing a hole through the hull.

The noise was deafening. The cruiser lurched violently, pitching to the left as it began to descend rapidly. He remembered Linka screaming, her voice barely audible against the howling wind buffeting the cabin.

He tore his eyes upwards at that point, seeing only four beams of light dancing above them.

 _Who's missing?_

He broke his beam off and looked around wildly, his eyes wide with fear as his gaze finally settled on the Heart Planeteer.

Ma-Ti was hunched over in his seat, his head lolling and blood streaming down his face. The cabin lurched again and the young boy's body jerked along with it.

 _Shit._

"You all right, buddy?" Wheeler had yelled over the howling din, as his teammate remained unresponsive. "Ma-Ti! Can you hear me?"

Nothing.

The fuselage jerked and vibrated, and Wheeler saw with detached horror that a piece of the wing had now broken off. It flapped for a moment before finally tearing free, bouncing along the outside of the cabin and beginning it's lonely descent to the ground.

"KWAME, WE NEED A PLAN B! CAP AINT COMING," Wheeler bellowed, his eyes sweeping toward the gaping hole in the floor where trees and other landmarks were now distinguishable.

Their leader nodded, still resolute in his efforts to land them safely under such strenuous circumstances. It was times like these that Wheeler appreciated Kwame's calm and controlled demeanor. The African murmured something to his frightened co-pilot, who glanced back at Ma-Ti before checking the instrument gauge.

"400 metres," Gi cried, propping her hands against the dashboard, her lips shrinking back from her teeth.

"Gotta' get the nose up, man!" Wheeler's breath hitched in his chest as he saw the tree line come into view.

"I know," Kwame called back, his face tense with concentration as he struggled to hold onto the jittery controls.

"300 metres," Gi called above the roar. "Where are we landing?"

The side window suddenly shattered from the outside pressure, showering Linka in glass. Gi turned at the sound and shrieked her name as the g-forces whipped the Russian's body around like a rag doll, her safety harness the only thing keeping her from being sucked out the window.

Linka's seat was clattering loudly and Wheeler looked on in dawning horror at the realization that two of the metallic legs that were welded to the floor of the cabin had torn loose.

"Linka!"

He'd reached blindly across the cabin for Linka's hand, but the cabin had lurched again and he couldn't reach the distance. She raised her pale face to his and his heart stopped, blind terror reflected within her green eyes.

He heard another metallic _clang_ as Linka's seat dragged against the floor, catching on the edge of the damaged window. Her hair whipped wildly around her face as she struggled to grab onto something, feeling the force of the air trying to suck her outwards.

The Russian's body jolted painfully as her shoulder hit the window rim. Wheeler's fingers started fumbling with his own harness, his heart in his throat and desperate to reach her.

The shrieking winds had become an almost mechanical roar as Linka grabbed hold of the windowsill with both hands, trying to anchor herself. She locked eyes with Wheeler again, her face taut with terror and the dawning comprehension that what was about to happen next was _inevitable_.

Wheeler heard her voice call his name as he frantically tried to unbuckle his belt. The cabin again lurched violently, their predicament unnoticed by Kwame and Gi who were arguing over where to attempt a landing.

And in the blink of an eye she was gone.

Linka toppled sideways, still strapped to her chair and disappeared from the Geo-Cruiser without so much as a scream. Wheeler gripped the seat in front, screaming her name as another alarm system went off, indicating their close proximity to the ground.

"100 METRES!"

"SHE"S GONE! SHE'S FUCKING GONE!"

"BRACE FOR IMPACT!" Kwame crossed his arms in front of his face as the windshield was obliterated.

Trees and foliage whipped against the fuselage and the smell of smoke filled Wheeler's lungs. He turned and braced himself against the seat in front, gazing across in shock at the empty spot where Linka had sat only moments before.

He closed his eyes tightly, clutching his head in his hands as the geo-cruiser made impact. The seat buckled and Wheeler was thrown forwards, his limbs almost weightless as the harness did the job it was intended for.

The shattered vehicle bounced and surged forward, the cabin airborne once again and seemingly unstoppable as it ploughed through the forest.

The world tilted and shifted sideways. The American gasped as he registered a hot, searing pain in his collarbone, before the fuselage flipped and skidded to a halt. Wheeler dimly felt the impact of the supplies crashing down on him, before darkness claimed him.

He thankfully surrendered to it.

 **Always love your reviews, guys**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

The acrid scent of smoke hung low within the cabin as Wheeler stirred, his head pounding heavily. He registered a sharp pain in his shoulder and he raised his hand, feeling the jagged edge of a piece of metal jutting out of his flesh.

Wheeler pressed his eyes closed, gripping the twisted metal between his fingers and gritting his teeth as he pulled it out. It clattered to the ground as he strove to get his breathing under control, the pain causing him to nearly pass out.

He dropped his hand again and groaned, now aware of the fact that he was hanging upside down. Wheeler begun fumbling with the harness buckle with his right hand and he gasped, a new wave of agony shooting through his fore-arm.

 _Oh shit. What the fuck?_

Wheeler's right hand was useless. He was unable to even clench his fist or wriggle his fingers. His eyes widened as he gingerly ran his gaze over his injured forearm, able to see the lump forming through the swollen skin despite the hazy conditions inside the fuselage.

He switched hands, using his good arm to release the latch on the safety harness. After several moments he succeeded, falling to the ground with a loud _crash_. He lay there, stunned for a minute, before rolling onto his side and stumbling to his feet, clutching his suspected broken arm against his stomach.

Wheeler reached Ma-Ti first, checking for a pulse as he glanced around towards the others, worry etched on his face. Kwame was slumped against the controls but had begun to stir, much to the American's relief.

"Ma-Ti? Ma-Ti, can you hear me, man?"

No response came from the Native American. Wheeler coughed as the fumes became thicker. Aware that they were slowly suffocating, he gently pushed Ma-Ti upwards against the seat using his shoulder and unhooked his colleague's harness, catching Ma-Ti's weight awkwardly as he fell.

"Kwame," he called, noting the African was now swaying, holding one hand against the dashboard in order to brace himself and holding his head with the other. "Kwame, we gotta' get outta' here."

Wheeler wrapped his good arm around Ma-Ti's chest and pulled him upright, dragging him through the cabin. The American scrambled through the hole made by the missile, pulling Ma-Ti through and dragging him to the safety of the trees beyond.

He laid the unconscious man down on his side and returned to assist Kwame, whose head appeared briefly as he tossed the first aid kit out and disappeared again. He returned with Gi slumped over his shoulder and was attempting to pull their combined weight both out of the cabin. Wheeler hoisted Gi up and together they carried her limp body to lay beside Ma-Ti. Together, the two men slumped to the ground, regaining their breath.

"Where is Linka?" Kwame asked, gasping as his chest was suddenly racked with a severe coughing fit.

Wheeler shook his head, staring ahead at the smoldering wreckage before them. He closed his eyes and swallowed, his brain working hard to piece together the details in a coherent manner. His voice came out as a mere whisper.

"She went over the side." Wheeler dropped his head down to avoid Kwame's stunned expression, his chin resting against his chest as his body shuddered at the memory. "Happened so fast. Couldn't get to her."

"What? How…"

Wheeler shook his head, tears streaming down his cheeks as he wiped them away with the back of his hand, his injured arm hanging loosely beside him.

Kwame stared at the American, his mouth open and his eyes uncomprehending. He glanced back towards the others, still lying unconscious where they had been left. The African moved closer to the American, placing a comforting arm around Wheeler's trembling shoulders.

"All right," he said softly. "For all we know, Linka could have used her ring on the way down. Correct?"

Wheeler nodded. "Yeah," he said, rubbing his hand over his face.

"We have little to no chance of finding her ourselves until Ma-Ti wakes up. True?"

Wheeler looked away, shuddering. "Can't find her if she's dead, man."

Kwame shook his head. "No, my friend. Ma-Ti and I spoke about this at length last year. He has always felt that if one of us died, the connection would break completely and our rings would become obsolete. All or nothing."

To prove his point, Kwame pointed his ring towards the Geo-Cruiser.

"Earth." A hole opened up underneath and the vehicle was soon buried and hidden from sight, but still accessible through the hole in the floor. Kwame seemed to be concentrating harder than usual however, his brow beaded with sweat as he struggled to direct the ring to do his bidding.

Kwame glanced at Wheeler with his eyebrows raised.

"See? Still working." Kwame scratched his head in confusion, wiping blood away and staring at the sight of it on his fingers. "Not working very well, granted… but still working."

Wheeler nodded, staring out at the forest beyond. It was then that Kwame noticed the American's injuries. The African man gave a sharp intake of breath as he saw Wheeler's blood-stained shirt and misshapen arm, currently lying across his lap at an unnatural angle.

"My God, Wheeler! Why didn't you say anything?" Kwame gasped as he surveyed the damage, facing the dawning comprehension that his colleague was probably in shock. Kwame jumped to his feet and jogged towards the first aid kit, intent on binding his friend's wound and tending towards the suspected broken arm.

Kwame sunk back down beside him and begun fashioning a splint using a piece of bark from a nearby tree. "This will have to do, my friend," he muttered, but Wheeler barely heard him.

The American simply gazed ahead, his eyes unfocused and his teeth pressing upon his bottom lip. He inhaled sharply as Kwame tightened the splint, breaking him from his dazed state. He bandaged the wound on the American's collarbone quickly as his fingers became slippery with Wheeler's blood. Kwame sighed, wiping his hands on his trousers as he sat back to check his handiwork.

A low groan came from behind them and the men turned, noting that Gi had turned over onto her back, her hands pressed against her forehead and her knees drawn up. Kwame placed a hand on Wheeler's good shoulder and stood, trotting over to check on the Water Planeteer.

* * *

Gi had a suspected concussion, whiplash and some minor facial injuries, but she seemed to have escaped major damage. She had dragged herself towards Wheeler's hunched figure immediately, her eyes wild as she scanned the area for Linka's whereabouts but Kwame had stopped her before she could reach him.

The African spoke to her in hushed tones and she started to sob, her gaze spiraling upwards towards the blue sky.

"Oh God no," she whimpered as tears began to fall. Kwame took her hand and together they sat beside Wheeler, contemplating their next move.

"We need to finish the job," Kwame said softly, his arm wrapped protectively around Gi's shoulders. "I know we have other more pressing things on our minds, but there is another shipment of animals due to leave tonight."

"What, so we just leave her out there?" Wheeler's said, his voice coming out harsher than Kwame had expected. The African man raised his palms in a gesture of solidarity.

"No, my friend. Like I said before, we have a job to do. We have no chance of finding Linka without Ma-Ti. The three of us need to move on Plunder and Sludge now, otherwise this whole mission will be for nothing. Ma-Ti will find Linka when he wakes."

"What if he doesn't wake up?"

Kwame sighed, his shoulders slumping. "That is a chance we will have to take."

Wheeler clenched his jaw but said nothing and Kwame knew that his point had been accepted, albeit reluctantly.

Gi instinctively moved closer to the American, resting her head on his good shoulder.

"She'll be okay, Wheeler. Linka's the most resourceful one out of all of us. She's probably already over there hen-pecking Plunder and wondering where we are."

Wheeler glanced at her, a ghost of a smile pulling at the corner of his lips. Gi hugged him in return, careful not to knock him in any sore places.

"Are you all right?" she asked, taking note of the bruises and injuries littering his body. The American didn't look good. Considering they'd been sitting at the front, Gi and Kwame had come away with comparatively minor injuries.

"Yeah," he said, getting unsteadily to his feet and helping Gi up. "Feel like I've been hit by a truck."

"Do we have a plan?" Gi asked, rubbing her neck as she turned to Kwame. "Please tell me you have a plan."

"I reckon we head in there and blow shit up," Wheeler muttered. "Those fuckers fired a missile at us."

Kwame shook his head. "Gi, you need to get to a phone and call in the authorities. Police AND medical. You'll need to tell them that we have someone missing in the field."

Gi nodded, wrapping her arms around herself and shivering in spite of the oppressive heat.

"What direction?"

Kwame turned and pointed in the direction they had just came. "Head north. Contact the embassy. Just be careful, as we are deep within Tuareg country."

"Okay. What are you guys going to do?"

"Wheeler and I will try to locate the container and free the latest shipment of animals. We'll need to detain Plunder and Sludge until the authorities can get there. We'll leave a note with Ma-Ti explaining the situation, just in case he can't reach us. Ma-Ti will track down Linka as soon as he's able."

Kwame looked at Wheeler with his eyebrows raised. "Okay?"

The American nodded, heading towards the cabin of the Geo-Cruiser.

"All right, yeah." Wheeler slid down into the damaged plane, using his fire ring to light up the cabin. He chanced one more glance towards the area where the missing fifth seat was located; his heartbeat quickening as he forced himself to search for supplies to stuff into his backpack.

Wheeler was about to leave when his ring picked up a glint of metal, lying among the glass and rubble strewn across the floor. He squatted down and picked up a dainty silver bracelet adorned with various charms.

The American recognized it immediately as belonging to Linka. He held it up to his eyes; sorrow furrowing his brow as he noticed the broken link in the chain, most likely torn during her struggle to stay inside the aircraft.

It had been a present from her _nona_ for her 21st birthday, having once belonged to Linka's mother. Wheeler held his ring up to it, noting the dainty charms attached; a babushka doll, a figurine of the Kremlin, a bird, a musical note.

He exhaled as he noted the length of the chain, and the thin, delicate wrist that it was designed to fit. Tears started to fall again and he angrily brushed them aside, chastising himself as the brief image of that perfect wrist haunted him; potentially lying bruised or broken somewhere out of his reach.

Wheeler slipped the chain into his pocket and hoisted the backpack over his shoulder as he climbed out of the fuselage. He looked around, watching on as Gi and Kwame moved Ma-Ti into a make-shift shelter away from the ruins of the buried Geo-cruiser. They had tended to his wounds and attached a note to his wrist; bound with a bandage from the first aid kit.

 _Wake up soon, little buddy._

The three stood in the clearing, tiredness and pain punctuating the tense atmosphere as they contemplated their mission.

"Okay," Wheeler said, trudging in the direction of the airfield with the others close behind him. "Let's get this party started."

 **Thank you to the delightful Frankie A, Miss Mango, Becks 7 and my ever-present guest reviewer for their reviews on Chapter One :-)**

 **Hope you like it guys! Please read and review, I love reading your thoughts :-)**


	3. Chapter 3

Hey guys! Hope you enjoy this chapter! After the light and airy cuteness of my last fic, this story is going to be a bit of a departure from that. I'm going for dark and suspenseful. This chapter contains violence and adult themes.

 **Guide You Home**

 **Chapter Three**

The flies were horrendous. Between the oppressive heat and the insects, they were proving to be an almost welcome distraction against the turbulent thoughts circulating through Wheeler's head.

He swatted at another black mass buzzing around his face, cursing at their persistent nature.

Behind him, Kwame had stopped; doubling over as yet another coughing fit took over his body.

Wheeler halted and turned, observing his friend's hunched over form; his hands on his knees in an effort to regain his composure. Kwame met the American's worried glance and shook his head, beads of sweat dripping down his forehead.

"Sorry," he gasped, holding out his hand and gripping Wheeler's shoulder as he pulled himself upright. "I need to rest."

Wheeler nodded, leaning against a tree as Kwame dropped himself down to the ground. The African man was pale and clutching his ribs. It was then that Wheeler noticed fresh blood on his friend's mouth and chin.

"You're bleeding," he said quietly, crouching down in front of Kwame with concern. "Reckon you've cracked a rib, man… or worse."

Kwame nodded, clutching his chest with a pained expression. He absently wiped his lower face with the back of his hand, noting the scarlet blood against his dark skin. Kwame sat back and closed his eyes, using the tree trunk to rest his back against.

They sat in silence for several moments, gathering their strength.

They'd been walking now for roughly an hour in the general direction of the air-field. There was little cover available to them so they stayed adjacent to a dirt road, as close to the rock formations and shrubbery as they could. Planes were passing overhead at regular intervals and the pair did not want to draw attention to their location.

Gi had separated from them about 30 minutes into their journey, in a bid to contact the authorities. She had gone in search of a village they had passed in the Geo-Cruiser before everything had gone to hell, intent on getting access to a phone or CB Radio since their own hadn't survived the crash.

Kwame had been the first to admit that they were in way over their head on this particular mission.

The African man sat with his legs out straight, his palms lying flat against the ground as he regarded his friend and colleague quietly. He was concerned about Wheeler's condition. The American had lost a great deal of blood already and was looking extremely pale, a faraway look evident in his blue eyes.

Kwame sighed, raising his eyes as another aircraft passed over their heads. The engine droned loudly as it swept past them. Kwame held his breath as Wheeler also raised his head; a worried crease in his brow as the plane seemed to circle, then glide off in another direction.

"They're looking for us." Kwame shifted slightly, raising his knees and straightening his posture to alleviate the pressure on his ribs. "Same plane as last time."

"Yeah," Wheeler breathed, his eyes still raised to the sky as his thoughts turned to Linka. "You think they've found her?"

"I honestly do not know, my friend. Would we even want them to find Linka?" Kwame sighed, meeting Wheeler's troubled glance. "Plunder and his mates seem pretty intent on killing us these days, after all."

"Friggin' missiles, seriously?" Wheeler muttered, kicking the dry dirt with his sneaker. "How the hell is that considered modern warfare against a group of environmentalists?"

"I think we have wrecked far too many of Looten Plunder's ventures, Wheeler." Kwame said, shielding his eyes against the late afternoon sun. "I honestly think they all want us gone. Blight and Plunder especially…"

Wheeler didn't respond, his eyes downcast as he clutched his arm. The pain was intense, radiating from his wrist to his elbow in waves that were causing him to puncture the skin of his bottom lip with his teeth. The American sighed, knowing they had to get up and keep moving.

"You gonna' be all right to…" Wheeler started, but Kwame held his hand up, his eyes wide with fear as he jumped to his feet, dragging Wheeler up and pushing him in the direction of a thick _baobab_ tree. They ducked behind it and held their breath as the sound of a vehicle approached; it's sputtering engine echoing through the sparse landscape.

Kwame squinted at the vehicle, taking note of the driver and his passenger, both wearing khaki uniforms with an emblem emblazoned on the chest pocket. The jeep went by and stopped about one hundred meters past their location. Wheeler could hear the occupants arguing with each other, their arms gesturing wildly about their faces.

Kwame listened intently from their vantage point as the driver exited the vehicle and trotted into the brush. His intention became clear as the employee dropped his pants and begun relieving himself against an _acacia_ shrub, whistling away like he didn't have a care in the world.

"Oh, Jesus…" Wheeler muttered, disgust fleeting across his face. He slapped Kwame on the back and nodded towards the man in the passenger seat, currently fanning himself with a magazine. "You take that one. I'll take wee-man."

Kwame nodded, suppressing a grin as he raised his ring and directed a wave of power towards the man in the jeep. His aim was to summon a mountain, designed to erupt under the vehicle and thereby jolt the unsuspecting employee out.

What actually followed was a minor earth tremor that would barely rate a mention on the Richter scale. To Kwame's horror, the vehicle merely shuddered, caused their intended target to jump to his feet and leap from the jeep as his eyes soon settled on Kwame.

 _Uh oh._

The employee reached down and fumbled with the holster attached to his hip. Kwame turned to Wheeler, who had skidded to a halt at Kwame's apparent lack of earth-power. Wheeler switched his ring quickly to his left hand and raised it. It was a token gesture borne out of habit- but the American already knew his ring would offer no better use than Kwame's.

"Fire!"

The jeep passenger had raised his gun, his lips shrinking back in fear as the metal glowed bright red. The man gave a pained expression as it seared the flesh on his hand- a far cry from the fireball that Wheeler had attempted to muster. The employee threw the gun in the air and Kwame took the opportunity to streak towards him, swinging a well-aimed punch into the side of his head.

A bullet whizzed by and Kwame turned, his mouth agape as he watched Wheeler cover the distance and throw himself at the second man over by the bushes, who had sufficiently recovered from his toilet stop and was also brandishing a pistol. Kwame leapt towards them, his heart in his mouth as he watched Wheeler sink his knee into the prone man's stomach, attempting to wrestle the gun away from the driver.

On a normal day, Wheeler would have easily out-maneuvered his target, but this was no normal day. The American's injuries were too severe and the driver quickly got the upper hand.

Plunder's employee tackled Wheeler to the ground, pinning his ring arm above his head and shifting his body-weight to hold the struggling American in place. The driver jammed the muzzle of the gun against the red-head's forehead. Wheeler squeezed his eyes shut, his heart racing as he threw his head to the side and waited for the shot.

There was a flurry of activity as the gun exploded, sending dirt, grass and shrapnel flying everywhere.

 _Oh God. I'm dead._

Wheeler kept his eyes tightly shut, rolling onto his side with a groan. His ears were ringing as he felt strong hands shaking him. A muffled voice called his name and he groaned again.

"Wheeler? Are you all right?"

The American opened his eyes, blinking as Kwame's face came into focus.

"WHEELER!"

Kwame's usual calm and authoritative demeanor had slipped significantly. His facial features were contorted with fear and uncertainty as he peered down at his friend.

"Yeah, yeah." Wheeler exhaled shakily, allowing Kwame to help him into a sitting position. The American glanced at the jeep driver lying unconscious beside him- a broken tree branch lay several feet away, having been brandished by Kwame in the nick of time. "Thanks, man."

The red-head raised his hand to his throbbing forehead, feeling the familiar sensation of slippery blood close to his right temple.

Wheeler shuddered, mortified at how close he'd come to a bullet entering his brain. "Let's not do that again."

"C'mon," Kwame muttered, pulling Wheeler to his feet. Together they jogged towards the vehicle and climbed in. Wheeler dropped himself into the passenger seat, his head resting tiredly against the window as Kwame hit the accelerator.

They bounced and rocketed along the dirt road at high speed. Another plane flew by and Wheeler glanced upwards, rubbing his forehead with the pad of his thumb. He was exhausted, nauseous and starting to feel rather light-headed; no doubt due to the various injuries he'd sustained.

The American closed his eyes, finding it hard to avoid slurring his words. "Why don't… why don't our rings work?"

Kwame pursed his lips, perturbed at the fact that he didn't have an answer. "I don't know, Wheeler. In all honesty, I don't know."

The African glanced over at his colleague, watching Wheeler's head lolling towards his chest.

"Wheeler?" He reached out and gently prodded his shoulder. No response.

 _He's out._

Kwame sighed, raising his ring to his head in a desperate attempt to reach Ma-Ti. Disheartened upon receiving no response, Kwame increased the pressure on the accelerator as the airfield came into view. He reefed the steering wheel to the left and hurtled towards an empty hanger.

Throwing the brakes on, Kwame jumped out and jogged towards the heavy metal doors. He swung them open, looking over his shoulder as he hurried back to the car.

The African parked the jeep in the far corner of the hanger. He secured the vehicle and moved to the passenger side, reaching in and pressing his fingers to the pulse in Wheeler's neck.

Satisfied that Wheeler had passed out and wasn't in any immediate danger, Kwame grabbed a tarp and covered the jeep as best he could, shielding his friend's location from unwanted eyes. His thoughts briefly turned to the others and he dismissed them with a groan, trying to stay focused on the task at hand.

He pressed his ring to his head in a last ditch attempt to reach Ma-Ti. Still finding no response, the Earth Planeteer went on alone, determined to locate the next shipment and summon assistance in case Gi was unsuccessful.

Always love to hear your thoughts, guys! Please read and review :-)


	4. Chapter 4

Hey guys. Thanks everyone for your support! I simply adore you guys; I'm really enjoying writing for CP again.

It's giving me an outlet, a hobby. It's interesting, being a 37 year old chick writing about an obscure 20 year old environmental cartoon. But I always adored the series and it still remains the only fandom that I enjoy writing for.

Thanks again!

 **Guide You Home**

Chapter Four

Kwame stood for several moments against the hot corrugated iron of the hanger, sneaking a glance towards the tarmac. Another plane had landed and Kwame held his breath, noting a familiar bald figure swing the door upwards.

 _Argos Bleak._

Plunder's protégé jumped from the aircraft and stalked across the runway. Bleak's shoulders were hunched and a pissed-off look was evident on his sweaty face.

Kwame listened intently, his breath hitching in his chest as another figure strode out to meet Bleak.

"Any sign of them?" Looten Plunder's smooth voice was carried by the slight breeze, although Kwame still had to strain to hear them. He crept closer, daring another look around the corner of the hanger.

"Nah, boss. No sign of them. You sure they crashed?"

"Yes. Blight said it was a direct hit." Kwame watched Plunder throw his hands up in frustration, before removing a cigar and lighting it. He puffed away for a minute or two, gathering his thoughts.

"Want me to go back up?"

Plunder exhaled, blowing smoke over Bleak's shoulder. "No. We don't have time. I need you around here just in case those planet-brats have survived. Can't afford another fuck-up like the last shipment."

Bleak smirked. "Yeah. Just make sure you punch a couple of holes in the next container, boss. I hear oxygen is a requirement for most living things."

Plunder narrowed his eyes at his off-sider but remained quiet, rolling his cigar between his thumb and index finger. "Check on the second container of merchandise. They're going out at midnight, after the animals. Make sure they're behaving themselves and staying quiet."

"And what if they're not?"

It was Plunder's turn to smirk. He stubbed his cigar out on the heel of his shoe, throwing it away onto the tarmac.

"Then use one as an example to the others of what happens if they don't cooperate." Plunder shrugged, a nonchalant expression on his face. "Just don't leave any marks, Bleak. My European customers are rather pedantic."

Plunder turned and walked away, leaving Bleak to his own devices.

Kwame leaned against the hanger for a moment, Plunder's words reverberating through his mind. He raised his hand to his head, pressing his palm against his temple as he tried to make some semblance of meaning from Plunder's cryptic words.

 _Check on the second container of merchandise…_

 _Use one as an example to the others…_

Kwame frowned, his heartbeat rising as he considered the possibility that animals may not be the only 'product' on Plunder's agenda. He risked another glance around the corner and watched Bleak's retreating figure, striding purposefully towards a utility vehicle parked outside the structure that Plunder had just entered.

Bleak climbed in and started the engine, tearing off in the direction of a large non-descript shed located on the fringe of the airfield.

Kwame slumped against the hangar, wiping sweat of his brow as he considered his next move. He was exhausted, injured and alone. His lips pressed into a hard line as he also considered the biggest implication.

 _I am powerless._

The African man squared his shoulders with a fierce determination. He glanced around and when satisfied no one was watching, sprinted the distance towards the administration building.

* * *

Wheeler woke with a start. It was pitch black and he was suddenly overcome with a claustrophobic sensation. His good arm shot out in front of him, making contact with a plastic-type material and he prodded it, confusion settling over him like a blanket.

 _What the hell?_

He sat up, steadying himself against the dizzy spell. He raised his hand again and gripped the tarp, pulling it aside as a fine layer of dust floated down over him, illuminated by the afternoon rays of light filtering through the small windows.

Wheeler blinked and looked around, noticing that he was still inside the jeep, which in turn was parked inside a large metal structure. He grasped the tarp and tossed it to the ground, his eyes searching for Kwame and finding him missing.

The American sat back, rubbing his face while he contemplated his next move. He felt dizzy and faint, but his concern for the others quickly motivated him into moving. The red-head tossed open the door and stood, leaning against the vehicle for support.

The hangar was mostly empty, probably designed to house one of the aircraft that had flown over his head earlier. Fuel barrels, old machinery and supplies lay strewn around the perimeter of the interior. Alongside the back wall stood industrial-type shelving units with various containers and items scattered throughout.

He leaned his body over into the back of the jeep and rustled through the mess littered throughout the back seats. He was surprised to find a couple of apples rolling amongst the fast food wrappers, receipts and fuel canisters.

Wheeler grabbed them, aware that he needed to keep his energy up for as long as possible. He rubbed the fruit against his jeans and took a large bite, heading towards the shelving units. He began rifling through the items, looking for anything that could be of use to him.

Industrial solvents were stored in heavy tins on the bottom shelf and he peered at the labels, his mind working overtime as he considered their uses.

 _Mineral turpentine, kerosene, acetone, enamel thinners…_

The American's eyes settled on a small bottle of diethyl ether and he paused- a spark of recognition passing across his face. He bit his lip as he recalled his pre-Planeteer days in Brooklyn.

Wheeler grabbed the bottle and held the clear liquid up to his face, recalling the times he'd spent roaming the streets after copping various backhands and punches to the head from his drunken father.

He recalled the shady figures in the alleyways sniffing ether from filthy handkerchiefs, and the drunken, stumbling and disembodied movements that came as a result. He narrowed his eyes, remembering a homeless man inhaling for too long and passing out.

 _Also acts as an anesthetic._

Wheeler reached his hand into his pocket and removed Linka's bracelet, wrapping it around the limp fingers of his right hand. He slipped the ether bottle into his pocket and took another bite of his apple as he searched the area for some rags. He found some tossed behind a petrol drum and he pocketed them too.

He sighed, rubbing the babushka charm between his fingers briefly as his thoughts turned to her. He glanced down at it once again, wishing beyond belief that he were curled up on the lounge watching a movie with his pretty Russian colleague instead of wandering bruised and bloodied around an airstrip in Eastern Mali.

Provided there were no eco-alerts, it had become their Friday night ritual of the last couple of months; a bowl of hot, buttered popcorn in the rec room and an action movie with Linka.

Wheeler had actively toned down his public declarations of affection for the Russian, aware that while most girls would revel in the attention, the blonde shied away from it, embarrassed and self-conscious. She was so incredibly private and shy when it came to relationships.

Not that they were in a relationship... but neither were they simply colleagues these days: they were somewhere in-between, treading an invisible tightrope that threatened to launch them in either one interpersonal direction or another. The arguing and bickering of the past had given way to mutual and deep respect and Wheeler was content with that… for now.

But it didn't detract from the fact that he lived with her face in his memory.

That when she smiled at him… whether it be from across the Geo-Cruiser or when he opened a door for her, his heart threatened to burst out of his chest.

That he counted down the days until Friday night came around; their limbs tangled under a heavy blanket and his arms wrapped tightly around her, while Schwarzenegger, Willis or Gibson dispatched bad guys with lethal efficiency.

That some nights while Linka dozed lightly against his chest, he would simply soak up the features of her face; touching the freckles, the laugh lines in the corners of her eyes, the curve of her chin and the softness of her cheeks.

That sometimes, when chatting comfortably about nothing in-particular with his lips pressed against her temple, he would breathe in the peach scent of her hair and would spend the rest of the evening fighting the overwhelming urge to pin her down and crush his mouth and body against hers.

Wheeler sighed, clutching the bracelet in his hand. He simply adored her.

 _You got it bad, man._

The redhead looped Linka's bracelet around the bandages on his splint, tucking the torn ends beneath the fabric as best he could.

 _Ma-Ti will be on his way to you soon. Hope you're okay, babe. Be safe._

He grabbed his backpack and a baseball cap from the back of the jeep, tossing the hat on his head in an effort to disguise the telltale shade of his hair. With that, he threw the bag over his shoulder and hurried towards the hangar doors.

The heat outside was oppressive and he blinked, unprepared for the onslaught. Wheeler darted towards a pile of timber pallets and hid behind them, peering out at the field in front of him. He caught a glimpse of a figure close to what looked like an office building and he exhaled with relief, watching Kwame's familiar figure slip out of the office unnoticed.

He watched Kwame jump into a lone buggy and speed off in the direction of a large shed on the outskirts of the airfield. The American looked on as his friend alighted and disappeared inside using a side door.

A high-pitched scream broke his concentration and he froze, the hairs on the back of his neck raising as it echoed across the barren field. Distinctly female in origin, Wheeler's heart lurched as he gripped the pallets, listening and watching intently for any sign of the owner.

His mouth dropped open in fear as he watched on, horrified as another vehicle pulled up across the field. Wheeler squinted, watching as the sun reflected off the new arrival's shiny head. He saw the stocky man alight from the jeep, the muscles on his arms thick and ropy as he grabbed a canvas-type sack and seemed to throw it over something.

Wheeler heard Bleak's distinctive voice barking orders and the American narrowed his eyes as Sly Sludge appeared, looking around nervously. Together they hoisted a struggling form out of the vehicle and disappeared inside the hangar.

 _Shit. Linka?_

Finding nothing to answer his silent question, he pursed his lips, deep in thought. As another plane barreled down the runway, he pulled the brim of the hat low over his eyes and squared his shoulders, striding purposefully towards Kwame and the isolated building.


	5. Chapter 5

_Aaaah. Sunday's with the little family have given way to tapping away at my computer these days! Haha, how times have changed. Aw shucks. Thanks again to Miss Mango, Frankie, Becks7 and my unknown reviewer for the last chapter, you guys are superbly awesome._

 _Rated T for violence, adult themes and threats of a sexual nature._

 **Guide You Home**

Chapter Five

Barbara Blight stood by the wall-to-floor windows of the top floor office, gazing down at the airfield below. She tapped her fingers against the glass, feeling bored and restless as her breath fogged up the transparent material separating her from the ever-present heat outside.

She hated this place. Loathed it. Blight had been here for a month and had been hired by Plunder to oversee the exportation of some very illegal 'product'. Blight was the only female within the group with the same lack of moral integrity, so Looten Plunder had made her an offer too good to refuse.

Over an unexpected late-night phone call to her lab, Plunder had carefully explained the operation and Blight's potential role. She had listened intently, careful not to betray the fact that she was actually rather impressed with what she was hearing.

Her job was to be two-fold. The first role was to find and 'manage' the recent acquisitions. Doctor Blight had frowned but Plunder was as smooth as always, explaining that he needed a woman there to provide a feminine influence. He had requested her services because 'any potential targets would be more likely to see her as a nurturing, motherly figure'.

Blight had snorted down the phone at that particular statement. "Me, nurturing?" she had said, her chest heaving with the effort required to contain her laughter. "Oh Plunder, darling… that's rich."

Her second role was to come prepared in case of 'unexpected guests'. Blight had figured out that vague reference rather quickly, her eyes passing over the rocket launcher prototype that she was planning to sell to some North Korean military contacts.

 _Planet Pests. Perhaps a test-drive of my newest equipment may be in order?_

The pair had bantered back and forth for another half-hour, discussing payment and other joyless frivolities. They had argued over customers and traded snide remarks but as always, it was the bigger picture that linked them towards their common goal.

The offer was there and she had accepted. Plunder had flown her to Mali and she had set to work immediately, scouring the local streets and interstate markets for potential victims. She had dressed in civilian clothes when visiting the hot-spots but had still insisted on wearing her favorite shade of fuchsia, her hair carefully styled to hide her scars.

And stock she had certainly found: roughly 30 of them, between the ages of seven and twelve. Blight had been careful not to draw attention to one particular location, but to scatter her scouting missions as far afield as Senegal, Nigeria and even Tunisia.

She always befriended them first, offering the girls sweets and Coca Cola. Orphans and street urchins were the easiest pickings but if an opportunity presented itself, Blight didn't hesitate to pounce.

Argos Bleak usually traveled with her. She supposed he was useful in his own way, providing the brawn once the child was suitably passed out as a result of the sedatives added to the soft drink.

Sometimes she wondered if she should feel something. An ethical outrage, or even the slightest level of discomfort regarding their operation. Blight probably considered such things more so than the rest of the eco-villains. Her intelligence was a double-edged sword: that she knew their actions were morally reprehensible but she lacked the conscience and empathy required to do anything about it.

In all honesty, she didn't care. She'd stopped caring years ago.

Blight squinted out the windows again and watched as a vehicle passed by. She narrowed her eyes as a figure darted past her line of sight.

She turned and walked towards a small cubicle, sinking into a padded swivel chair and propping her legs up against the cheap melamine desk. The laptop sitting on the same surface blinked to life and a ghostly face appeared, grinning at the scientist.

"Penny for your thoughts, Doctor?"

Blight frowned. "Darling, my thoughts are worth much more than that." Her voice was smooth and sultry as she studied the laptop display, her brow furrowed with concern.

MAL chuckled, watching as his creator leaned forward and accessed the main operating system with three keystrokes. MAL soon shrunk until he was a small square in the right hand corner of the screen as various lines of code appeared on the monitor, spiraling downwards in a quick progression.

"Looking for something?"

"Yeah," she murmured, scratching her head. "Bring up the security feed for the admin building."

"The front?"

Blight nodded, her hard gaze turning back towards the windows. "Yeah."

The screen blinked to life again as a flurry of activity greeted the scientist, recorded in black and white.

"How far, doctor?"

"Ten minutes. I have a feeling…"

MAL stopped the video at the required frame and they observed the admin front doors for several moments, the video switching between the entrance and the car park. Blight's eyes scanned the data; her finger hovering on the tracker-pad and a familiar figure caught her eye.

"There!"

MAL froze the image and Doctor Blight leaned forward, studying the face intently.

She smiled, her eyes dark and cold as she recognized the figure on the screen. The man was tall with dark skin, short hair and the telltale Planeteer insignia was visible under the Earth Planeteer's jacket.

"MAL baby, patch me through to Bleak," she said, standing and cracking her knuckles with glee. "We've got company."

* * *

"Get off me!"

Kwame stopped dead, hearing a familiar voice through the walls of the hanger. He held his breath as an angry shout issued from the next room, followed by a loud clattering sound. The African man crept along the wall and found a small window covered in dirt and dust above his head. He dragged a crate over and stood perched on top, peering through the small opening that provided him a limited perspective of what was happening.

He spotted Sly Sludge immediately, sprawled on his back amongst a collection of fuel barrels and struggling to get to his feet. Sludge's face was red and his fists were clenched as he advanced towards the struggling figure wrapped in a canvas bag, held in place by Argos Bleak.

"Teach you to kick me, planet-brat," Sludge yelled but Bleak swung his captive out of Sludge's reach.

"Calm down, you idiot," Bleak barked, heaving the bound figure towards a load-bearing pillar. "There's probably more of them around. Blight spotted another one on the security monitors earlier."

Bleak lifted and tossed aside the canvas bag, gripping the captive's wrists roughly. He dragged her across the floor towards the pillar, her shoes making desperate tracks through the dirty concrete floor.

Kwame's view was obstructed by Sludge's position but he immediately recognized the sneakers and the tangle of short, black hair peeking out behind Sludge's portly frame.

His heart sunk as he realized who it was and the implications of her sudden appearance.

 _Gi didn't make it to find help._

"You guys wont get away with this!" Gi spat, kicking out at Sludge's figure again. He jumped back, glaring at her. "We know what you're doing!"

Bleak crouched down behind the Water Planeteer, gripping her chin and forcing her head back. Gi gasped, feeling Bleak's hot breath on her neck.

"What _are_ we doing, sweetheart?"

Gi shuddered but remained uncooperative, swinging her head back hard and making contact with the Eco-Villain's right cheek. Bleak chuckled and released his grip, the impact barely rating a mention.

"You're smuggling rare and endangered animals and birds and selling them to the highest bidder. You're ignoring international by-laws on the protection of animals. You're profiting from the proceeds of a crime," she said, before meeting his eyes in a defiant manner. "And you're an asshole."

He moved around and squatted in front of her, gripping her ankles to avoid a repeat performance of Sludge's earlier fall. Argos Bleak was clearly enjoying himself.

"Where are your friends," he asked.

Gi shook her head, turning away from his steady gaze. "How should I know?"

"Hmph." Bleak responded. He looked down on her, an amused smirk on his face. "Have a nice flight?"

Gi wasn't about to back down. "Yeah. Rough landing, though. You wouldn't know anything about that, huh?"

Bleak and Sludge glanced at one another, grinning. "Yeah, dolphin-girl. Reckon we might."

"Shouldn't we take her ring, Bleak?" Sludge queried, looking around nervously. "Just to be safe?"

"Take it if you want," Bleak said, jumping to his feet and dusting off his trousers as Sludge eagerly stepped forward. "Blight said they won't be able to do much with them anyway."

Kwame watched on as Sludge gripped Gi's ring and reefed it of her finger. She gave a cry of frustration, glaring up at him as he slipped it into his pocket.

"Why aren't our rings working? What've you done to them?"

Gi hadn't missed the exchange between the two men regarding their powers. She had found herself unable to even summon a few drops of water during her long walk. She pressed on, ignoring the derisive look the bald man threw in her direction.

Bleak shrugged, heading over to a metal locker. Using a key attached to a chain around his neck, he opened the lock and swung the door open. It hit the wall loudly, and both Gi and Kwame jumped in spite of themselves.

"Ask Blight. Something to do with radioactive isotopes." He had returned with a rifle and Gi's breath caught in her chest, her eyes never leaving the weapon clutched in Bleaks hands. Her mouth went dry as she looked around, fear etched across her face.

Kwame had also spotted the rifle and stepped down from his vantage point. He approached the swinging door separating the two rooms and peered through the crack, ready to launch himself towards them if needed.

Bleak had crouched down again, eyeballing the nervous water Planeteer. He held the rifle in one hand and snapped the magazine into place with the other, the sound causing G's blood to run cold. Her teeth pressed upon her bottom lip as she looked away, unable to maintain her steadfast gaze with the henchman any longer.

She was frightened and intimidated. Bleak's lips curved into a thin smile as he balanced the weapon across his knees.

"If I had my way, you'd already have a bullet in your brain," he said softly. "But I have my orders. We need you alive in case the others cause trouble. You're our bargaining chip. But the moment we round all you little shits up, your precious Gaia will spend the next eternity wandering the sand dunes, digging up your rotting bodies."

She glared at him from underneath her lashes, refusing to raise her face to him. Bleak smirked, standing and slinging the rifle over his shoulder. He turned and strode towards the internal door as Kwame scrambled to hide, knowing he was no match for a rifle should Bleak run into him.

"It's a pity your pretty little Russian friend isn't here," he called, before disappearing from view. "Would have _loved_ to get better acquainted with her. Got a weakness for blondes."

"Go to hell, Bleak." Gi replied hotly.

Bleak laughed, moving through the next room, his voice reverberating. "I'm planning on giving her the special treatment before putting a bullet to her, though. You can tell her I said that."

Gi launched into a verbal tirade of English and Korean insults, her voice breaking and her heart pounding as she wiped tears away from her face using her shoulder.

Kwame flattened himself between the oil drums and the wall, barely managing to keep his anger in check as Bleak walked past. He peered out from his hiding spot, furious as he watched Bleak approach the jeep.

Plunder's employee tossed the rifle on the back seat and it landed on a collection of canvas bags similar to what Gi had been covered in. Bleak turned, annoyed as a voice called his name.

Sludge had followed him out, whining about having to keep an eye on the 'Planet Pest'. They had a heated exchange before Sludge backed down.

"Do I at least get a gun? What if more of them turn up to find her?"

Bleak grunted in response, exasperated.

"Fine," he muttered. "Come on. Hurry up, I've gotta check on the containers."

They returned inside and walked through the small office area, barely missing Kwame diving back into his hiding place amongst the oil drums. Bleak strode back towards the locker and swung it open again, retrieving a small pistol.

"Do you even know how to use this?"

Sludge nodded his head. "Yeah. You point and shoot."

Bleak rolled his eyes. "Guard her. Plane's arriving in an hour. Be on the lookout."

With that, Argos Bleak returned to his vehicle and vaulted the side, landing heavily in the drivers seat. He turned the ignition over and pressed the accelerator, streaking towards where the 'product' was stored.

* * *

The canvas bags in the back lurched and bumped around with the movement of the tyres. Bleak's phone rung and he flipped it open, listening for a moment and barking down the line to whoever was calling.

While distracted, Plunder's henchman was oblivious to the fact that his rifle had suddenly disappeared under the canvas sacks, before reappearing in the same spot about a minute later. The vehicle hit a pot-hole and a hidden figure stifled a groan as his head made contact with the tyre groove.

Wedged on the floor between the front and back passenger seats, his presence went undetected by Bleak as he continued launching sarcastic comments down the phone, presumably to his boss. The henchman's bad mood worsened as he approached the massive shed and heard screaming and cries for help issuing from the shipping container within.

He quickly pulled to a stop, still arguing with the caller. Bleak reached behind the drivers seat and grabbed the rifle; calloused fingers disturbing the canvas and coming alarmingly close to finding an unexpected leg instead.

Bleak hung up and tossed his phone onto the drivers seat. He exited the car and hurried towards the container, motioning towards the men guarding the front to follow.

They disappeared inside as Wheeler gripped the edge of the Jeep doors and hauled himself up, his face bright red from being covered in the mounds of thick fabric.

Wiping the sweat from his face, the American leaned over and grabbed the satellite phone from the front seat. Making sure there was no one around, he jumped out and flipped open the phone.

Wheeler jogged around to the back of the shed as he entered the emergency number, exhaustion setting in as he identified himself to the operator and requested immediate embassy and consulate assistance. He lent against a discarded tractor, steadying himself against the waves of pain radiating through his arm. The call was put on hold and he waited, eyes darting left and right for any sign of movement.

A voice picked up, American in origin and Wheeler exhaled, vaguely recognizing the name from their past travels. He gave a brief run-down of the details and their rough location, and was not surprised to learn that Plunder's current operation had already been flagged by the FBI and Interpol.

Wheeler breathed a sigh of relief as the official rendered assistance. The consulate employee also promised to contact the Russian embassy regarding Linka's unknown whereabouts.

Military and medical assistance were being expedited and Wheeler slumped against the tractor, listening to the man's rapid-fire voice. The red-head's breath caught at the expected time-frame.

 _3-4 hours to mobilize local forces._

He cringed, aware that the sun was already setting behind the mountains.

 _They'll be too late. Shipments will already be gone._

Wheeler swallowed, jumping slightly as a loud _crack_ issued from inside the shed, followed by a short, sharp scream. The American froze, his conversation forgotten as he whirled around, clutching the phone away from his ear as he strained to hear more. Crying and muffled voices greeted him, followed by a more ominous silence.

"I gotta go," he hissed into the cell phone. Wheeler swore in frustration, hanging up on the consulate employee mid-sentence.

They were on their own.


	6. Chapter 6

**Thanks again to my beautiful reviewers. Still not giving too much away. You'll have to wait patiently for my weekly chapter updates. Bahahahaha!**

 **Guide You Home**

Chapter Six

Gi clenched her fists, glaring at Sly Sludge as she struggled against the bonds holding her bound wrists to the pylon above her head. She huffed against the oily rag pulled tight against her mouth, aware of the futility in trying to break free. She pressed on regardless, her eyes settling once again on the eco-villain left to keep an eye on her.

Sludge was bickering down the phone at someone; his face turning red with displeasure as he paced the shed, throwing the Water Planeteer resentful glances every now and again.

In all honesty, she was incredibly angry with herself. It was Bleak who had found her in the end. Gi had travelled quickly in the direction indicated by Kwame. She'd found a small village with a number of friendly locals and through basic sign language she'd been able to communicate her need for a phone. The village elder had pointed her in the direction of a market, and offered her food and water before she set out again.

Gi had gratefully accepted, sitting down with some local children to rest. Her thoughts had turned to the others, especially Ma-Ti and Linka and she'd wondered for the umpteenth time if they were okay.

The Planeteer was chugging her third glass of clean bore water when a shadow had loomed over her and she'd looked up in surprise, squinting and shielding her gaze against the glare of the sun.

Her eyes had widened and she'd automatically raised her ring as the figure, momentarily forgetting it wasn't working. Her heart had thudded painfully as a strong hand had grasped her wrist and hauled her to her feet.

It hadn't taken Gi long to realize who it was. Her surprised yelp had startled the local villagers who had watched on with amazement as Bleak had wrapped his arms around her waist and dragged her towards his vehicle.

A young man no older than 18 had stepped forward, attempting to render assistance but Bleak had shoved Gi against the vehicle with one hand and raised his rifle at her would-be rescuer with the other, his eyes blazing with menace. The young man had backed off, his palms in the air as he regarded Gi with worry etched across his face.

Gi had put up a fight but she was no match for him. He'd bound her arms and legs, before throwing her into the back seat and tearing off down the dusty road, towards their current destination.

* * *

Coincidence and pure rotten luck had led to Gi's path unexpectedly crossing with Argos Bleak. Plunder had employed one of the villagers to deliver supplies to the base and Bleak had been sent to follow up about a shipment to be made the following night. He'd had been making the required payment when a conversation had been overheard about a young woman who had arrived, requesting help.

Plunder's right-hand-man had quickly put two and two together and gone to investigate.

In the few short months that they had been operating out of Mali, Bleak had ensured that the villagers; living in their primitive, dust-pot shanty town had learnt to keep their mouths shut about the goings-on at the airfield. They were afraid of him, the bald man with the fiery temper.

Rumors were plentiful about this strange individual and his acquaintances; holed up in the compound and surrounded by armed guards and barbed wire. Planes flew in and out at all hours, day and night.

The locals knew better than to ask questions, even when stories were filtering through from surrounding tribes about children disappearing in broad daylight. Mostly street kids, but some of them were from good homes; vanishing on their way home from school, or after purchasing sweets from the local store.

One child in particular from Nigeria had never made it home from her piano lesson. The daughter of a government diplomat, the disappearance had made national news. A witness had reported seeing a silver mini-van in the vicinity, but that was where the trail grew cold.

The girls had simply ceased to exist. They were there one minute, and gone in the blink of an eye. But each 'product' acquired was someone's child. A child who had been loved, hugged, doted on and cared for before a faceless enemy had spirited them away without empathy or compassion.

The locals were getting restless... and angry.

* * *

Dr Andrew Glover peeled his blue surgical gloves off and leaned against the wall for a moment. He was exhausted. Seven months working here and he still couldn't fathom the steady influx of patients who walked through the screen doors on a daily basis.

The Englishman sighed, glancing at Doctor Bennett in the next room who was crouched over a malnourished five-year-old, stethoscope in hand. Edward Bennett was an elderly man in his late seventies who seemed better suited to a life of gardening and living out his twilight years, instead of holed up inside a cloying mud-brick building in a small African town for up to 14 hours per day.

Andrew frowned; his brown hair settling over his eyes as he peered through the circular window into the waiting area. It was 4pm in the afternoon and another client had walked in, holding a small baby in her arms. Her brightly-colored dress sashayed around her legs as she took a seat in one of the plastic chairs, holding the screaming infant in her arms.

The doctor turned towards the small sink and scrubbed his hands; his eyes settling on the small fridge in the corner of his makeshift office. It housed the vials of drugs, vaccinations and medicines.

These were stockpiled under lock and key: a night-time raid by local Tuareg fighters had ensured the need for extra security. Local rebels had broken into the building when Andrew had first begun his contract here, destroying equipment and stealing much-needed supplies.

They had no choice but to soldier on with what was left, since the supplies were delivered every few months. Between the raids, separatist activity, the heat, the sand, the flies and the abject _loneliness,_ Andrew sometimes wondered what he was doing here at all.

It was a random, totally spontaneous decision to complete his medical training and join "Doctor's Without Borders." Andrew's family had been dead against the idea, but he'd been resolute in his efforts to assist those less fortunate than himself.

His father in particular had always assumed that Andrew would head straight into a local medical practice, spending his days tackling patients with obesity, high cholesterol and common childhood ailments. But it wasn't to be. At least, not yet, anyway.

Born into a middle class family in Chelmsford, Essex, Andrew had experienced a somewhat idyllic childhood with slightly over-achieving parents who encouraged competitiveness between himself and his siblings.

But the young man had applied for the program regardless after completing his doctorate, ignoring the strenuous objections of his family. He'd planned on making a difference.

The reality had been very different to his expectations. His days in Mali were spent administering inoculations, treating malaria and tuberculosis and giving basic sex education to young girls destined to marry young.

Just last week he had assisted Doctor Bennett with a difficult birth. The fifteen-year-old girl who presented to the clinic after hours was in the middle stages of labour and her small pelvis simply wasn't wide enough to birth a baby.

The issue was surprisingly common. But these people had no one else, and their gratitude and kindness was payment enough.

He grabbed a bottle of water from the shelf and emptied half the contents in a few gulps. His thirst quenched, the young doctor made his way out into the waiting area to call his next patient.

Just then the main entrance door swung open again courtesy of a strong gust of wind. Andrew gasped as the door slammed against the internal wall of the building, bouncing sharply as sand blew in from the surrounding desert. He hurried towards the entrance and attempted to close the doors, shielding his face as the gust strengthened in intensity.

He finally succeeded in latching the doors shut, while noticing the tell-tale brown haze sitting just above the darkening horizon. It shimmered and moved, fluid and terrifyingly beautiful at the same time. The doctor peered towards it, his teeth pressing upon his bottom lip. He knew what it meant.

 _Dust storm's coming._

Andrew went to turn away but noticed an old battered Datsun pull in to the yard at high speed, bearing several young men wearing traditional turbans. The strangers jumped out and tore towards the surgery. Andrew's breath caught in his throat, unsure of what was happening. He motioned for the patients to crouch down before calling for his colleague.

"Grab the gun, Ed," he shouted, as Doctor Bennett looked up in surprise. Andrew stepped back, his heart beating rapidly as the young men burst through the doors, breaking the flimsy latch in the process.

The boys immediately approached the doctor and started talking rapidly at once, worry and stress etched on their faces. Andrew realized that they couldn't have been older that 18, probably local farmers judging by their clothing.

Doctor Bennett appeared beside him, the weapon hidden securely within his clothes as the young men tried desperately to communicate. Andrew glanced nervously at Ed, neither man able to decipher the rapid-fire _tamasheq_ language issuing from the loud rabble.

Finally one of them stepped forward, an item clutched in each hand. Andrew ran his hand through his hair, confused as he took the small brown vest they were desperately offering him. He turned it over, frowning as he noticed scuff marks and light blood stains around the collar and hem-line. It was a woman's vest, the heady scent of roses still present within the fabric.

"What is this," he asked, shaking his head as the youngsters pointed in the direction they had just come from, beckoning for him to follow them. Their sense of urgency was such that Doctor Bennett immediately turned and headed into his office, gathering supplies.

Andrew was herded out towards the vehicle, with Doctor Bennett not to far behind him. The senior doctor called out instructions to the nurse on duty and she nodded, watching them from the front verandah along with the rest of the curious patients who had filed out as well.

Andrew climbed into his ute, turning on the ignition as Edward tossed the supplies into the back seat. He paused, realizing that he was still holding onto a second object, it's tiny weight clenched within his fist.

He looked down at the ring - a thick gold band, attached to a light blue stone with three wavy lines in the center. It was designed to fit a very small finger.

A car horn broke him from his thoughts as the Datsun roared to life, peeling away from the surgery with urgent speed. Andrew passed the ring to his colleague who had taken a seat beside him and together they followed the car in front, hoping and praying they'd make it before the dust storm arrived.


	7. Chapter 7

Hi guys, thought I'd get another chapter done before the end of the weekend. Hope you enjoy it. There should only be a couple more chapters to go. As always, I love reading your reviews and encourage you to leave your feedback.

 **Guide You Home**

Chapter Seven

The boy moaned as he rolled onto his back, raising a shaking hand to his face. He opened his eyes, his gaze unfocused as he squinted upwards at the darkening sky.

Ma-Ti blinked, aware of a throbbing sensation across the center of his face. He gingerly touched the bridge of his nose and gasped as pain radiated outwards towards his cheekbones.

He groaned again as he rolled onto his side and pulled himself up into a sitting position. The world spun for a moment and he had to steady himself, hand clutching the dry earth. Ma-Ti glanced down, noting blood covering his fingers and staining the front of his shirt.

 _Wha…?_

The mission came flooding back and he staggered to his feet, swaying as another dizzy spell came over him. He lurched forward, looking around wildly for his friends but finding no trace of them.

The sun had set, casting a pinkish hue across the horizon. It was getting cold now; the heat of the day giving way to the night-time chill that only the desert could bring.

He wiped the back of his hand across his forehead, his face worn and haggard. It was then that Ma-Ti noticed the piece of paper wrapped around his wrist, tied securely with a muslin bandage.

He pulled it out with narrowed eyes, having to concentrate harder than usual to read Kwame's distinctive writing in the diminishing light.

 _"_ _Hope you are okay. Wheeler, Gi and I have gone on ahead. Linka is missing, she fell from the GC just after the missile hit. Need you to locate her, our rings are playing up. Be safe."_

"Oh my god," he breathed, immediately raising his ring to his head and seeking a connection with the Wind Planeteer. Ma-Ti paced back and forth across the sand before crouching in front of the buried Geo-Cruiser, desperately trying to lock on to Linka.

He gazed upwards at the sky, fear mounting as he received no response, not even the faintest glimmer of her energy. Linka's aura was always blue when he attempted a connection. Cool, calm and collected, always the easiest energy to seek out.

Ma-Ti's lips pressed into a tight line as he broke off the attempt after several minutes, truly concerned now. He re-focused and sought out Kwame instead, a sick feeling bubbling away in the pit of his stomach. He sensed a small spark of light immediately, blinking faintly but it was there and it was _tangible_.

Ma-Ti mentally grabbed hold of the spark and forced his telepathy onward, hoping that Kwame would be in a position to receive him.

* * *

Sludge's muffled voice was audible through the corrugated iron walls of the next room.

"You brats are in for it now," he said, grinning as he stood in front of Gi, kicking the sole of her shoe with his own. She withdrew her leg and glared up at the Eco-Villain. "The Doc's outdone herself this time."

"Mmmph," was all she could muster.

"Oh, it's a thing of beauty," he said.

The gun remained in his possession and he passed it back and forth between his hands, enjoying the effect it was happening on the nervous Planeteer. "MAL finally cracked the jackpot."

Gi rolled her eyes but remained quiet, her eyes flicking towards the doorway. Her breath caught as she saw a shadowy figure pass through and disappear behind a tractor.

"Rings not working?" Sludge was still grinning, kicking Gi's foot again with the front of his steel-capped boots. "No Captain Punk-Ass to rescue you, you meddling little twerps."

Gi's eyes flicked sideways for a moment, spotting the figure again. Recognition - and intense relief – overcame her. Gi clenched her fists against the pole, pressing her self up into the best sitting position she could muster.

She extended her legs out and resumed glaring at Sludge who was still toying with her. He prodded her ankle with his foot and she lashed out, kicking him in the shin.

"Ooooh, she's a feisty one," he laughed.

Gi's lips curved into a smile as she met Sludge's stare, her eyebrows raised.

"What are you smilin' at?" he sneered.

Sludge noticed the movement to his left but by then it was too late. A steel bar was brought down on his hands and he screamed, dropping the gun as agony flared in his fingers. The gun skidded to the floor. Sludge acted on instinct and lashed out at the surprise intruder, throwing a punch that glanced off the unknown man's shoulder.

Gi took the opportunity to wrap her legs tightly around Sludge's ankles and she wrenched her knees upwards, causing the Eco-Villain to lose his balance. He tried to compensate by turning slightly and grasping for the pole, but Kwame managed to land a punch of his own. Sludge lost momentum, falling heavily across Gi's lap.

She groaned as Sludge's chin made contact with her hip, reefing her leg up and kneeing him in the ribs for good measure.

Kwame gripped Sludge by the shoulders and threw him onto his back, keeping his forearm pressed tightly against his throat. Sludge briefly struggled again, his eyes bulging but the African man was able to hold him down securely by pressing his knee against his chest.

Kwame turned to Gi, concern etched across his tired face. "Are you all right?"

Gi nodded, feeling breathless as Kwame retrieved a length of rope from the waistband of his trousers. He secured the Eco-Villain's limbs and once satisfied he was no danger to them, moved to remove the gag wrapped around Gi's mouth.

"Any sign of Linka?" Gi whispered, wincing as Kwame untied the knots digging into her wrists. He threw the rope aside as she rubbed the chafed skin, staring up at him with wide eyes.

He shook his head, a grim look on his face. "Nothing. I'm sorry Gi."

She lowered her head and looked away, tears welling in the corners of her eyes as she contemplated her friend's whereabouts.

He gripped her by the elbows and pulled his tired colleague to her feet, setting her down gently.

"Where's Wheeler?" she asked, steadying herself against him.

"Wheeler passed out on the way here, but that was several hours ago," he said, staring out towards the darkness beyond the structure. It was night-time now, cold enough to induce shivering due to being clad in t-shirts.

Kwame sighed, pressing his palm against his forehead. "I do not know where Wheeler is currently."

Sludge rolled over, having recovered from his fall and glared at the pair. "Stupid brats, you're in over your heads this time, aren't you! You can't stop us, Blight's made…"

Kwame had reached his limit. He rounded on Sludge, quiet fury emanating from the Earth Planeteer in waves. Pressing his forearm back against Sludge's throat, he increased the pressure until the eco-villain started wheezing.

"What has Blight made?"

Sludge narrowed his eyes, throwing his head to the side as Kwame released the pressure for a moment. He coughed, still gasping for air.

"That missile… Blight's been experimenting with radiation. Your rings," he gasped, shaking his head in an effort to free himself from Kwame's grip. "She narrowed down the mineral composition. The radiation attaches itself to your rings. Something about breaking down the properties…"

Gi stared down at him, trying to make sense of his ramblings. "What, so Blight has infected us with radiation?" She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry as she gave Kwame a frightened look.

Sludge rolled his eyes. "I don't fucking know, you'll have to ask the good doctor. All I know was that it was designed to wreck havoc with Captain Tight-Pants. But you idiots didn't bother calling him."

Gi glared at him. "Sorry to wreck your plans," she replied hotly. "Thanks to you we're down two members."

"Oh, my heart bleeds for you." Sludge rolled his eyes, fixing his eyes upon the beams criss-crossing the spaces above their heads. "No one asked you to come… as per usual."

Kwame shook his head, shoving him back towards the floor when he attempted to sit up. Sludge immediately started complaining as Kwame moved aside and staggered to his feet, hunching over as another coughing fit took hold. He managed to steady himself, before stepping towards his colleague.

"What do we do with him?" Gi interrupted, cocking her thumb in Sludge's direction and doing her best to be heard over Sludge's furious rant.

Kwame grabbed the gag off the ground and rounded on the prone figure lying on the ground.

"Don't you dare…" Sludge started to say, his face red and sweating. The rest of the sentence was muffled as Kwame tied the material tightly across Sludge's mouth. The African gripped Sludge under the arms and hauled him towards the storeroom he'd been hiding in earlier in the day.

Gi followed the pair, keeping an eye out for unwelcome visitors. "Where are we putting him?"

Kwame grunted, nodding in the direction of a large scrap bin filled with cardboard and paper. "Can you give me a hand?"

Sludge's muffled protestations were ignored as together the two Planeteer's managed to drag him towards the skip. Keeping his arm firmly wrapped around the Eco-Villain's chest, Kwame reached out for the crates he was standing on earlier, moving them into position in front of the container. He was able to haul Sludge upwards with Gi's help, until the wriggling figure was perched on the edge of the metal.

"Bon voyage, moron," Gi muttered, lifting Sludge's legs and sending him crashing into the contents below. "What now?"

Kwame didn't answer. He stood quietly, placing his ring against his head. Gi raised her hands, a question forming on her lips but Kwame shook his head, signaling for her to wait.

 _Kwame, are you there?_ Ma-Ti's voice was faint, but definitely not a figment of his imagination.

Kwame's shoulders slumped in relief. "Yes! Yes, we're here. Are you all right?"

 _I think my nose may be broken, but otherwise I am fine._

"Have you located Linka?"

Gi crept forward, placing her hand on Kwame's shoulder as Ma-Ti extended his signal. He felt the Water Planeteer's presence and projected his thoughts towards her as well.

 _No. No, I cannot reach her._ Even telepathically, Kwame could hear the fear in the Native American's voice. _I am not getting anything at all._

Kwame glanced at Gi who had sunk to the ground, her arms wrapped around her knees as she sobbed quietly. He closed his eyes, concentrating hard on replying to Ma-Ti.

"All right, my friend. I think Plunder is up to more than animal exportation here. Can you lock onto Wheeler?"

 _Hang on…_

Kwame sighed, clutching his ribs as he sat himself down next to Gi, placing a comforting arm around her. He felt her shoulders shaking as a result of the sobs wracking her body. Gi wiped her eyes on the back of her hand and stared ahead, leaning her head against Kwame's chest. He gave her a tight squeeze.

"We will find her," he said softly and she turned to look at him, her face blotchy and tear-streaked. She nodded, sniffing slightly. "We will find her, but I have a feeling there may be others we need to locate first."

They waited quietly for word from Ma-Ti, continuing to ignore the shuffling and grunting coming from the container they were perched against.

Sure enough, Ma-Ti's voice soon penetrated their thoughts.

 _Wheeler is at the main hanger. He has contacted the American embassy. They are on their way, but they are not going to arrive in time. He says there are about 20-30 girls locked inside a shipping container. From what he can see, they are quite young._

Gi gasped as Kwame turned and glanced at her. She seemed completely stunned by the revelation.

 _The animals are also in a container at the other end of the hanger. Bleak is there, along with 5-6 armed guards. They are beating some of the older girls. Wheeler is asking if you can create a diversion?_

Kwame jumped to his feet and looked around, followed shortly afterwards by Gi as she trailed him around the storeroom.

"Absolutely. What does he need?"

* * *

"Shut them up!" Argos Bleak bellowed, shoving a tall girl of about 12 against the front of the shipping container. "Tell them to shut up. If I hear one more whine out of any of them, I'm gonna' tan your hide."

The young girl glanced at Bleak and the guards with terrified eyes, gripping the bars at the front and talking in a hushed voice to the frightened and dirty faces within. Dressed in a white blouse and navy skirt, the girl appeared to be wearing a school uniform… and could obviously speak English.

From what Wheeler could see, Bleak and the guards appeared to be using her to communicate with the rest of the captives.

The American watched as Bleak tightened his hold on the back of the schoolgirl's neck, causing her to gasp with pain. He pushed her forwards and she stumbled, falling to the ground where she curled into a fetal position, fearful of another kick to the stomach.

"Good girl, _Amadia."_ He nodded at the child and a guard moved forward, hauling her to her feet and pushing her towards the container door. Bleak unlocked the padlock and she was pushed inside, her feet skidding across the corrugated surface.

"Fucking kids and animals," Bleak muttered. He motioned towards one of the guards again. "Go and get the forklift. It's time to move 'em."

Wheeler clenched his fists, glaring down at Bleak from his hiding place. He'd managed to sneak in and avoid detection by climbing into the cabin of a tractor and leaving the door slightly ajar. He had a good vantage point from where he was.

He exhaled, watching drops of blood falling from his shoulder onto the floor of the cabin.

 _Stick a fork in me. I think I'm just about done._

He sighed and leaned against the control panel, his shoulders slumped tiredly before reaching out to Ma-Ti again.

"Dude, how close are Gi and Kwame? The plane's arriving in half an hour. They're getting the forklift."

The response was immediate. _They are nearly ready. Are you all right?_

"Nope, but that's never stopped me before," he muttered, chancing another look out the window. "Any sign of Linka?"

 _I'm so sorry Wheeler. Still nothing._

He dropped his head, rubbing the babushka doll between his fingers again. "Okay."

 _There will be people out there looking for her by now, if they don't already have her. Anything from your ring?_

Wheeler raised his hand and sent a silent command, watching the fire ignite from the center. The flame seemed to flare, increasing and decreasing in intensity at spontaneous intervals, almost like a faulty gas cooktop.

"Dude, I'm just getting weird flames from my ring. It's more than I had after the crash but still nothing usef..."

A loud explosion interrupted his thoughts and he jumped, turning in the direction of the sound. He raised his head and peered out beyond the shed doors. A large fireball had erupted in the vicinity of the office area. Wheeler's mouth dropped open, feeling the heat of the blast from across the field.

 _Holy shit. Awesome diversion, Kwame._

There was smoke and debris raining down on the other side of the airfield, as well as the sound of glass continuing to shatter.

"Bloody hell, what now?"

Wheeler smirked as Bleak hurried towards the entrance, screaming instructions at the confused guards.

They ran in all directions, jumping into their jeeps and peeling off towards the admin building. Bleak remained behind, swearing angrily as he yelled for the last retreating guard to bring the forklift.

"All right, little buddy. I'm outta' time. Gotta make a move on Bleak."

 _What are you going to do?_

"I'm gonna do what I do best," he muttered, climbing down from the tractor. He grabbed the ether bottle out of his pocket and started making preparations, keeping an eye on Bleak's movements. "I'm gonna piss him off."


	8. Chapter 8

Author's Note: I recently found out that Barbara Pyle (CP co-creator) confirmed that Wheeler's first name is James. So just thought I'd forewarn you that this name will be referred to within this chapter.

Guide You Home

 **Chapter Eight**

Thick plumes of smoke started filling the administration building immediately, swirling gracefully despite the hurried movements of the people attempting to escape.

Chaos ensued as Plunder's staff vacated in the least orderly way possible: pushing and shoving one another in an attempt to reach the entrance doors. They staggered and weaved, reaching blindly for one another in desperation. Coughing and sharp cries punctuated the atmosphere as the employees finally reached the bottom level.

Their confusion was soon heightened by the fact that a vehicle lay smoldering in the foyer, surrounded by broken glass from the front windows. The sound had been enormous: first the glass shattering as the vehicle had impacted and torn through the foyer, then the explosion that followed.

The truck had come to rest wedged between the reception desk and the wall, flames and smoke still billowing from the cabin. The fire sprinkler system had kicked in within a minute of the explosion, adding to the fear and confusion as the employees found their way into the night-time air.

The sun had long since set. The only light source available was provided by the industrial floodlights bathing the airfield in a bright glow (and the vehicle still burning inside the main office).

A small crowd had gathered outside, including Looten Plunder who stood bellowing at the top of his lungs, his face red with fury.

"Fucking Planet brats!" Plunder spat, glaring in the direction of the smoking truck. His voice was hoarse from screaming as he looked around wildly, pushing past the frightened employees.

Anger and concern furrowed his brow as he considered the financial (and physical) implications to him and his company if this deal went south. Plunder had dealt with organized crime syndicates before. He was only too familiar with the consequences if an agreement wasn't kept.

The Italian Mafioso were not forgiving. An acquaintance of Plunder's had learnt this lesson the hard way. The knee-cappings of the past had given way to much crueler forms of control and intimidation. Plunder winced, combing his fingers through his hair with unsteady movement hands.

Plunder's one-time colleague had backed out of a deal with the _Maglione famiglia_ at the last minute. The police had never found the body, but his testicles had been pinned to a dart board in the pool-room and there was blood all over the scene. The two family dogs were never located.

Plunder had always assumed they'd been given a decent feed before being set loose… or disposed off to hide the evidence.

The workers looked uneasy as Plunder gritted his teeth, shoving a middle-aged man out of his way as he pulled his cell phone from his trousers and stalked towards his vehicle. It was time to cut his losses and run.

* * *

Barbara Blight quickly stuffed her laptop and paperwork into her satchel while glancing around the room, checking to see if she had forgotten anything important. She tucked a wet clump of hair behind her ear, glaring at the sprinkler system and the steady stream of water it was producing.

The alarms were sounding and smoke was floating upwards but Blight had more pressing matters to deal with before she could leave. All her research and the machinery within her office was far too valuable to risk damage. She had ignored the bells and headed straight to her office to retrieve and safeguard her work.

The missile had been her _pièce de résistance._ Her masterpiece. She had finally stumbled across a temporary solution to her biggest problem: The Planeteers. Her lips curved into a smile as she stuffed inanimate objects from her desk into the pockets of her bag.

With further research, she hoped the radioactive kinks could be ironed out and the effects would become irreversible. Permanent.

 _Just think. A world without those eco-morons._

She sighed, pushing her wet hair off her face again. Her scar gleamed wetly as she peered out the window, her gaze falling on Plunder's familiar figure striding across the gravel tarmac below.

Blight looked away, directing her glance towards the missile.

But it was no longer there.

The scientist opened her mouth, an almost comical expression of confusion and shock. Her lips formed a round 'o' as she hurried over to where it had lay, dropping her laptop bag and falling to her knees to search frantically underneath the desk.

 _What the hell?_

Panic was starting to set in as the doctor rose to her feet again. She launched herself towards the large filing cabinet, tossing random objects aside in her frantic attempt to locate the weapon.

Manilla folders and envelopes went flying in all directions as she muttered furiously to herself. One envelope skidded to a halt near the hallway, beside the figure of a man standing in the doorway, his face bathed in shadows.

"Looking for something, Blight?"

She froze in front of the cabinet, her hand still resting against the top shelf. Blight pursed her lips as she quickly ran through a number of defensive tactics needed to exit the room without the need for hand-cuffs.

"Yeah. As a matter of fact, I am." She turned and glared defiantly at the figure in the doorway, already recognizing him from the security feed earlier in the day.

"What might that be?" Kwame enquired, his voice calm but with an edge of anger. He stepped forwards, leaning against the doorframe, folding his arms across his chest.

She smirked, waving her hand dismissively. "Oh, you know. My latest experiment. But enough about that." She glanced at him, aware that he hadn't used his ring yet. She took that as a positive sign. "How are things with you and your crappy little super-hero club?"

Kwame narrowed his eyes. "I think you already know the answer to that, Blight," he snapped. "What have you done?"

She grinned at him, her teeth flashing in the moonlight. "Oh darling, your primitive little mind wouldn't be able to comprehend it…"

"Have you infected us with radiation?" Kwame's voice was harsh as he stepped forward again, closing the distance between them.

"Yeah," she drawled, clicking her tongue with amusement at his obvious concern. She stood defiantly, crossing her own arms and glaring back at the Planeteer. "Yeah, I have."

"What have you done? Why don't our rings work?"

Blight grinned. She may be psychotic, but she was first and foremost a scientist, and genuinely curious as to the full effect of her creation.

She sighed, inspecting her fingernails as she leaned against the desk. "MAL was able to isolate the chemical compound of your rings. It's amazing what concentrated gamma radiation can accomplish, wouldn't you say?"

"Is it dangerous to us?" Kwame took another step forward, his eyes not leaving her face.

"How the hell should I know?" she snapped, glancing around the room once again for the rocket launcher. "Where the hell is my machinery?"

"Is the radiation **dangerous**?" Kwame's voice shook with barely-contained malice and Dr Blight blinked, uncharacteristically nervous as she dropped eye contact with the earth Planeteer.

She rolled her eyes, but refused to meet his angry glare. "The short bursts I created were designed to cause molecular damage to the chemical compound of your rings. So if you're wondering if you'll drop dead of cancer in five years, my best guess would be _no_."

"That is not exactly comforting, Blight."

She shrugged, her eyes settling on a second figure who quietly stepped in through the doorway and was watching the scientist intently. "My heart bleeds for you," she spat back sarcastically. "Where's my rocket launcher?"

Kwame smiled, but the gesture didn't quite reach his eyes. "First things first, Blight. You and I have some things to discuss further."

* * *

"Hey, chrome dome."

Argos Bleak froze, his face twisting into a sneer as he immediately recognized the cheerful American accent.

"Wondering when you'd surface, Pyro," he said, turning and searching the building for the hidden voice. "I'm under the impression you're a little lacking in fire-power right now?"

"Nah, man; been over toasting marshmallows in what used to be your boss's office." Wheeler quipped, flattening himself against the corrugated shipping container.

Bleak grunted, unsure whether or not to believe him.

The American risked a glance through the side; the barred window giving him another view of the children locked inside.

He locked eyes with Amadia and winked. She smiled and nodded, whispering quietly to two of the older girls beside her, ready to act when needed.

Wheeler had taken his chance when Bleak had stepped outside to survey the commotion near the main office just after the explosion. He'd approached the container and given a low whistle, beckoning to the little girl in the school uniform he'd seen being mistreated by Bleak earlier.

She had stepped out of the shadows and approached him cautiously, gripping the bars and listening as he spoke in quiet, soothing tones.

Having seen her respond to her captors in English, he outlined what he needed from her and the older girls and she had turned and stepped away, relaying the plan to the others.

Frightened, dirty faces watched on passively as Amadia had returned after a moment, giving him the thumbs up sign. He sighed with relief. His plan was pretty basic, but all he needed was to buy more time. The authorities were on their way and it was the best course of action he could come up with.

He held his breath as Bleak slung his rifle over his shoulder, darting behind the same tractor he'd been hiding within earlier. Wheeler ducked away from the container as he nearly came into Bleak's line of sight

"Where are ya, you little shit," Bleak called out, his voice echoing sharply through the hanger. "Sludge has already got one of your little buddies tied…"

"Not any more, baldy," Wheeler taunted, grinning as Bleak muttered angrily under his breath. "I mean, shit. It's so hard to find good help these days, isn't it?"

"Fuck you, Planet Punk."

"Aw, c'mon Bleak. I miss our little chats. We never talk any more."

"I'll give you something to talk about, ya tree huggin' hippy." Argos Bleak's movements were becoming more frenzied. He kicked a fuel container over in anger, his eyes scanning the surroundings for possible hiding places. "Come out and we'll talk man-to-man."

"Dude, I would but I just can't take you seriously with that moustache."

Bleak swore, slamming the rifle butt against the shipping container and causing the girls inside to cry out.

"I'm gonna beat you into next millennium when I find you, Pyro," Bleak roared.

"Next millennium?" Wheeler called, his voice taking on a slightly hysterical edge as he followed Bleak's movements around the hanger. "Here's hoping. It'd be an improvement on your wardrobe, idiot."

Bleak snarled as he stalked around the fuel barrels again, hunting for his prey. Wheeler caught a glimpse of the silver tangle of keys attached to his hip.

"Think you're pretty clever, don't ya?" he spat, appearing briefly within Wheeler's peripheral vision before disappearing again. "Plane's here. Think you can still stop us? I have a bullet here with your fucking name on it!"

"Check your cartridge, Bleak," Wheeler shouted back, steadying himself against the waves of dizziness that were returning. "You'll find yourself a little light on ammo, dickhead!"

Wheeler heard the sound of the rifle chamber clicking open. Bleak swore, tossing the rifle aside in anger and striding in Wheeler's direction.

Wheeler flattened himself against the side of the shipping container again. He gripped the rag securely in his shaking hands, adding more ether for good measure. Wheeler passed the rag through the bars of the window and small hands took it, squeezing his own in return. The American knew without a doubt that he didn't have a hope of subduing Bleak one-handed. He needed their help.

 _God, I hope this works._

"You know, I'm gonna enjoy dancing disco-style on your grave, red."

"You know, the seventies are over, disco-boy." His mouth was running on automatic now, a bundle of hysterical energy bubbling towards the surface. "But I hear the Village People are auditioning for new talent. You'd fit right in!"

He heard the shuffle of footsteps around the corner and he clenched his fists, steeling himself for what was about to come.

"Got ya," Bleak sneered, slamming Wheeler into the container and placing him in a headlock. The American felt the impact and gasped as Bleak wrenched his ring off and tossed it aside.

They struggled violently for several moments, dodging fists and kicks before the American moved on sheer desperation. He ducked down low and made a grab for the keys, fumbling and struggling to detach them from Bleak's belt loop.

Bleak immediately twisted away from the Planeteer and the keys fell from his grasp. Wheeler felt a knee impact hard upon his stomach and he yelped, doubling over as Bleak slammed his head against the container.

Bleak's hand closed around the American's throat and Wheeler felt Bleak's grip tighten. He gasped for air as Bleak closed the distance, shoving the back of his head into the container wall once again. Stars burst forth and his vision swayed and shimmered, dazed by the blow.

Bleak felt the American's body slump within his grip and he smirked, releasing his neck and resuming the headlock position, easily overpowering the fire Planeteer.

Bleak leaned forward, his lips curved into a smile as his breath whispered hot against Wheeler's ear.

"You and I have a date with a bullet, motor mouth."

Wheeler gasped as Bleak's arm tightened around his throat. His shoes skidded helplessly against the floor as he attempted to stand but Bleak held him securely.

"Radio tells me a little blonde has been found in the sand-dunes a few clicks north of here. I've got a date planned with her too…"

Wheeler's jaw tensed, his blue eyes fluttering open as his heart rate increased beyond belief. Bleak smirked, leaning closer. "Won't just be bullets entering _her_ though, if you catch my drift. I'm gonna show her a real good time before she joins you."

Adrenaline surged through Wheeler's veins as his vision suddenly pulsed back to life in hot, red bursts. The American let out a roar and threw himself backwards, slamming Bleak backwards into the container. Bleak tipped over, coming to rest against the barred windows where watchful eyes waited, biding their time.

"Now!" Wheeler bellowed, pressing his weight back against Bleak with all the energy he could muster.

Several arms shot out of the window, wrapping around Bleak's neck and clutching tightly to his shoulders. Bleak loosened his grip on the American as he struggled to disengage himself from the twisting limbs trying to hold him in place. Bleak's eyes widened as a damp cloth was placed over his mouth, unaware that the moment of distraction had cost him dearly.

Wheeler fumbled to retrieve the keys, absorbing the desperate kicks and blows from Bleak who was still trying to fight off the girls. The American wrenched free of him, noting Bleak's movements were slowing down, his body beginning to sag. Bleak staggered away, wiping his face against the back of his hand as the drug started impacting upon his movements. His legs were sluggish and he fell, his brain failing to engage his limbs properly.

Wheeler staggered towards him, retrieving Bleak's rifle from the ground and swinging it with all his might. Argos Bleak crashed to the floor, out cold.

The American tossed the rifle aside, grabbing hold of a fuel canister to steady himself. Wheeler took several deep breaths, biting back the sudden urge to purge his stomach. He finally rounded the front gate of the container, dropping to his knees as he met Amadia's determined face pressed up against the bars. He tried several keys but found that his hands were shaking too much, and he was unable to focus on the lock.

"You're gonna' have to do it hon," he said, his voice a mere whisper. "I can't see."

Amadia nodded, grabbing the keys and trying each one until she found the mechanism clicked into place. Wheeler crawled aside, coughing as the gate swung open. The girls filed out in a somewhat orderly fashion, the only hiccup occurring when one of the younger children tripped and fell. She was swiftly picked up and pulled along with the others.

"We hide?" Amadia asked, crouching down in front of Wheeler's prone body. He nodded, too exhausted to open his eyes.

"Split up and hide, but don't go too far. There's people coming to help you, okay?" Wheeler propped himself up against the gate, his chin lolling against his chest as he fought the temptation to sleep. Amadia nodded again, relaying the message to three of the older captives. They filed away into the night, some glancing back at Wheeler with equal measures of concern and relief.

 _Wheeler, are you all right?_

The American's eyes fluttered open as he gritted his teeth. He was in agony, his head and arm radiating the worst pain he'd ever experienced. Raising his ring to his head took all the energy he could muster.

"Not really, man," he said. "No."

 _Wheeler, I'm tracking the rescue operation. They're surrounding the airfield, the military passed by me about 10 minutes ago. They wont be long. Where are the girls?_

Wheeler straightened his back, readjusting his position in a vain attempt to make himself more comfortable.

"They're out. They're hiding…" He trailed off suddenly, slurring his words again now as he struggled to form his thoughts in a cohesive manner. "Have you found her? Bleak said something…"

 _I've caught a lift to Segou, I'm picking up snippets from people, random thoughts but I'm sure Linka has been spotted. I can't confirm anything, my friend. I simply do not know her condition. You'll know as soon as I do, I promise._

Wheeler broke off the connection. He glanced upwards, seeing a blurry figure streaking through the hangar doors and screeching to a halt.

"Oh my God," the figure gasped. He coughed, his blue eyes watering as Gi launched herself in his direction. She dropped to her knees and skidded towards him. "Oh my God, Wheeler."

Soft hands gripped his shoulders and pulled him downwards, cradling his head in her lap. "Don't go to sleep, James. Can you hear me?"

Gi supported his neck with one hand and brushed the hair out of his eyes with the other, leaning over him worriedly. Wheeler was deathly pale, his chest rising and falling too slow for Gi's liking. She patted his cheek, trying to keep him conscious.

"Kwame," she called, spotting the Earth Planeteer enter the hangar carrying a small child on his hip, and with Amadia by his side. "He's here!"

Kwame's face remained stoic as he approached the pair. He dropped tiredly to the ground beside Wheeler. He kept a firm hold of the child in his arms, her arms clasped around his neck in a panicky grip. Kwame placed his other hand on Wheeler's chest, as if to seek confirmation that he was still with them.

After a moment's hesitation, Amadia joined them on the concrete floor and together they sat, looking out at the approaching lights and sirens on the distant horizon.

 **Okay, you know how I like a slow burn. One character has been missing through most of this fic. You'll find out her fate in the next chapter. I promise! Read and review, guys!**

 **Anyone catch the 25** **th** **anniversary of CP at Comic Con New York last week? It was pretty cool!**


	9. Chapter 9

Guide You Home

 **Chapter Nine**

 _"_ _Hey man, you're blocking my view."_

 _Ma-Ti rolled his eyes with a smile, sinking down into the sand next to his friend. He followed Wheeler's gaze, aware that the American's quiet observations had less to do with the scenery and more to do with the tall blonde stepping gracefully through the shallow water in front of them._

 _Wearing a black bikini with a colorful sari tied around her hips, Linka stood on the shoreline; shielding her eyes against the sun as she watched Gi kayaking around the bay._

 _Ma-Ti crossed his legs and leaned back, propping himself up against the trunk of the palm tree. He glanced at Wheeler who sat quietly, regarding the blonde with a faraway look on his face. The American turned and narrowed his eyes._

 _"_ _Get outta' my head, monkey-man."_

 _Ma-Ti chuckled, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. "Surprisingly, I can read you pretty well without needing my ring, Wheeler."_

 _"_ _Mmm hmm." Wheeler sounded unconvinced but let it drop._

 _"_ _She likes you, Wheeler."_

 _"_ _Coulda' fooled me," he sighed, leaning forward and wrapping his arms around his knees. "I dunno. Maybe she's waiting for some brainy doctor-type to come sweep her off her feet."_

 _"_ _I doubt it very much, my friend."_

 _Wheeler shrugged, his eyes settling on Linka's profile once again. "Probably be a better choice than a dyslexic smart-arse who can barely tie his own shoes."_

 _"_ _You are too hard on yourself, Wheeler," Ma-Ti said, giving the American a sideways glance. "She has feelings for you. She is frightened about letting you in."_

 _"_ _I dunno," the red-head replied, sounding unconvinced. "Maybe."_

 _Ma-Ti repositioned himself, smiling as Linka turned and glanced in their direction, probably curious about the conversation going on just out of her earshot._

 _He was a mere boy when he started with the Planeteers, but after 6 years he was more emotionally equipped to understand the attraction. Linka was simply stunning. Wavy blonde hair, heart-shaped face and full lips, with a knockout body and brains to boot._

 _Linka always garnered a great deal of attention (especially from men) during their travels, but she remained unaffected- and uninterested._

 _The Russian was very serious about her work and rarely allowed anything to interfere… although her main source of distraction came complete with red hair and an American accent, and Ma-Ti knew that this knowledge both annoyed her and frustrated her._

 _Ma-Ti dug his toes into the warm sand, sneaking another knowing glance at Wheeler. He was indeed very easy to read. He was still impulsive and cocky at times, but the positives far outweighed the negatives these days._

 _Ma-Ti also knew beyond a doubt that if any of the others were to be hypothetically stuck in a dangerous situation with another team member, Wheeler would be the first choice for all of them, including Linka._

 _"_ _You guys are on the verge. I feel that something pretty big is about to happen." Ma-Ti flicked a sand fly away and smiled at his friend, who still looked rather lost in thought. "It will force her to reevaluate things."_

 _They watched Linka as she gracefully dropped to her knees and sat in the water, tucking her legs underneath her body. She turned and smiled in the boys' direction, waving at the pair sheltering from the sun under drooping palm leaves._

 _The boys raised their hands in return, hearing Gi's excited whoops in the distance as a large wave carried the Water Planeteer back into shore. Gi beached herself on the sand rather violently, tumbling from the kayak sideways as Linka dissolved into a fit of giggles at her friend's predicament._

 _Linka jumped up and jogged over to her friend lying sprawled on the wet sand. She helped Gi to her feet, her long blonde hair tangling over her right shoulder. The girls stood in the water and chatted to one another, oblivious to the discussion occurring just thirty feet away._

 _"_ _I think I'm in love with her."_

 _Ma-Ti blinked, turning to face his friend and hoping that the shock wasn't evident on his face._

 _He wasn't surprised by the revelation itself, but more that Wheeler had actually admitted it out loud. Sure, he flirted and was pretty vocal when it came to declarations of affection for the Russian. Having said that, Wheeler had never verbalized to the others that his feelings ran deeper._

 _Ma-Ti grinned but stayed silent, shoving his colleague in a playful manner._

 _Wheeler threw a handful of sand in Ma-Ti's direction. The American shuffled forward and dropped down onto his back, pulling his cap over his eyes. "You tell anyone I said that, and you'll become a permanent addition to Kwame's green-house, little guy."_

 _"_ _You've only confirmed what I already knew, Wheeler," he replied cheekily, poking out his tongue as the American leveled a mock glare at him._

 _"_ _Thanks for the chat, Dr Phil," Wheeler quipped. He yawned, feeling relaxed and sleepy under the balmy sunshine. "I'm gonna get some shut-eye before Gaia rounds us up again."_

 _"_ _Any time. And Wheeler?_

 _"_ _Yeah?"_

 _Ma-Ti looked down, fidgeting with his hands. He didn't like to interfere in their personal matters, as he felt it was a betrayal of confidence. He had said too much already. Linka was an incredibly private person and would be mortified with the information he had already divulged._

 _On the other hand, he couldn't help but notice how despondent Wheeler was becoming these days._

 _Ma-Ti stood, dusting sand off his swimmers. He paused, considering his words carefully._

 _"_ _Linka may act like she is confident and in control all the time, but she's actually very vulnerable. She's scared. Just… just give her time. She'll come to you when she's ready."_

 _With that, Ma-Ti strolled off in the direction of the main living area, leaving Wheeler to his muddled thoughts._

* * *

The plastic chairs in the waiting room were uncomfortable but Gi persevered, shifting her body every few minutes in an effort to find a position that suited her. She ran her hands through her hair, her eyes glancing nervously towards the emergency room doors every now and again.

People had been entering the hospital in a steady stream since they had arrived. Worried, drawn faces approaching reception staff desperate for information on their missing daughters. They were ushered away as quickly as they entered, leaving Gi to her herself once again.

She sat quietly, her eyes cast downwards and shoulders slumped as she stared intently at her fingernails. Kwame had been gone for about twenty minutes now, having been ushered towards the hospital X-Ray facilities.

Gi looked up as the automatic doors slid open again, craning her neck as another large group of people moved through the reception. She raised her head further, hoping to see some familiar faces but was disappointed as the last stragglers passed through.

In truth, she was worried sick about Linka. The thoughts and scenarios dancing around in her head were too distressing to entertain.

Gi's eyes moved once again towards the doors, silently willing Ma-Ti to burst forth, a wide grin on his face and with Linka trailing along behind him, ready with a fantastic story to share about their adventures. But there was only darkness outside, along with the low whistle of the sand storm that had descended within half an hour of arriving.

She felt a body drop into the chair beside her and she turned, looking up at Kwame's tired, drawn face.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and gave her a shaky smile. "Cracked sternum and a broken rib."

She winced. "Nice. How's Wheeler?"

He sighed, his own eyes gazing briefly towards the front doors. "He is in surgery, his arm is a mess. Needed a blood transfusion, but he will be fine."

Gi nodded, leaning in towards the Earth Planeteer as he placed a comforting arm around her.

"Heard from Ma-Ti?" she asked softly, but Gi already knew the answer. Kwame shook his head, tightening his grip around her shoulders.

A nurse bolted past and Gi looked up, her eyebrows raised as she watched the nurse run into the corridor leading to the assessment rooms. The nurse returned a moment later with two more staff members; their faces tense as they passed through the entrance doors and out into the night.

Gi glanced at Kwame, wide-eyed with fear as the atmosphere in the emergency area changed instantaneously. Kwame grabbed Gi's hand and pulled her to her feet, watching on as more doctors rushed past. He concentrated hard, listening to the shouts and commands being thrown around and trying to pick up any useful information.

"They are saying code blue," Kwame said, his brown eyes wide. "What is a code blue?" He looked at Gi worriedly.

"Resuscitation," she whispered, wiping a tear away with the palm of her hand. "Oh, please don't let it be…"

Gi was interrupted by the sound of the doors opening and she froze as a flurry of activity burst through the doors. A trolley bed was wheeled in and quickly pushed towards them. Gi gasped as she spotted Ma-Ti amongst the group of hospital staff, his face haggard as he met their eyes. A nurse broke away and rushed ahead, presumably to prepare for any intervention that might be required.

The Water Planeteer stepped away from Kwame and approached the trolley, her mind working overtime. Her stomach flipped and turned as her fears were confirmed as the patient came into her line of sight.

It was Linka.

"Oh God… no, no, no," Gi whimpered, clapping her hands against her mouth as she took in the small figure lying unconscious on the bed, her neck supported with a brace and an oxygen mask obscuring much of her face. Gi followed the trolley numbly, unaware that Kwame was close behind her and looking on in horror.

Gi inhaled sharply upon noticing Linka's leg. Even with the splint attached to her lower limb, she could see that it was bent at an unnatural angle. The blonde's scalp and forehead were covered in dried blood and her lips were an unsettling shade of blue.

A young man in civilian clothes walked alongside Linka with her wrist held between his thumb and forefinger. "She's crashing, again," he said urgently, looking up at the surgeon who nodded.

Gi reached out automatically, her shaking fingertips brushing the hair away from Linka's forehead. She pursed her lips, aware of just how cold Linka's skin felt. She felt Kwame's hands on her shoulders as the trolley rolled away from her grasp. Linka was rushed away, Gi's arm and fingers still outstretched as her best friend disappeared from view.

It was at this point that Gi's carefully-maintained composure fell apart. She turned and dissolved into great, hitching sobs; clutching Kwame's shirt as he wrapped his arms around her. She felt Ma-Ti's hand on her shoulder and she shuddered, allowing the boys to lead her back to the waiting area.

* * *

Ma-Ti sunk into a plastic chair with an ice-pack draped over his broken nose, having been assessed and cleared by hospital staff. He had glimpsed his reflection in an assessment room and was shocked to discover the swollen face staring back at him. Ma-Ti had bruising extending along his cheekbones and under his eyes and the ice pack was doing little to alleviate the throbbing.

He had returned to the waiting area, talking in low voices with Kwame and the two doctor's who had stabilized Linka. Edward and Andrew had chosen to remain behind in the waiting area with them, at least until they knew more information. Gi sat sandwiched between the boys, her head resting on Kwame's shoulder as she dozed fitfully.

Kwame had soon discovered that the strangers were doctors who had discovered Linka's location. They had rendered assistance until the medi-flight had arrived and Kwame had no doubt that without their intervention, his colleague wouldn't have made it this far.

"Do we know her injuries?" Kwame asked, glancing towards the doors Linka had passed through fifteen minutes ago.

"Broken leg and head injuries for sure," Andrew said, gazing at his colleague for confirmation.

Ed nodded. "There's going to be some organ damage. We think she'd been bleeding internally for some time before we got there."

The group huddled together with disposable coffee cups, their eyes darting nervously around as they waited for information..

"Oh, you should have this," Andrew said, reaching into his back-pack and retrieving some objects. He handed over Linka's ring, vest and some personal possessions including her phone.

Ma-Ti reached for Linka's phone, turning it over in his hands. The screen was cracked and it wouldn't turn on. He sat staring at the dark display, his brow furrowed in contemplation.

He gently shook Gi awake and her eyes flew open. "Wha…" she began, but Ma-Ti shook his head.

"We still don't know anything. I think we need to contact Linka's family."

Gi rubbed her eyes, nodding in agreement. "Yeah, okay."

"Do you have their number? My ring is still patchy, I don't think I'll be able to focus on them."

"No, I don't." Gi shook her head. "Oh wait a minute…" she said, fumbling for her own cell phone. "I may have Mishka's wife's number from a group message. Hang on."

She scrolled through and located Irina's contact details, passing her phone onto Ma-Ti. Gi bit her lip, huddling into Kwame's side further as she watched Ma-Ti press the phone against his ear and wander through the doors into the darkness outside.


	10. Chapter 10

**Thank you so much for the reviews everyone! It means a lot to me! And welcome new readers, glad to have you here!**

 **It's been an interesting week. My bank accounts were compromised over the weekend and shut down due to fraud, so I have no access to my money.**

 **My son put himself on the wrong school bus last week and promptly fell asleep, missing the two hour journey through glorious Australian countryside (while Mummy and the school frantically tried to locate him). Scariest two hours of my life.**

 **I have school reports due and I've moved from part time to full time until Christmas as a favour to my boss. Oh my gawd, just... workload. Gah!**

 **On the plus side, in an hour-and-a-half it will be October 19, which happens to be my birthday. Hooray for me!**

 **But here I submit the next chapter for your viewing pleasure. Enjoy!**

Guide You Home

 **Chapter Ten**

Kwame opened his eyes, blinking as a nurse shuffled past to do her hourly rounds. He sat up, stretching out the kinks in his neck and shoulders from his awkward position on the floor as his eyes surveyed the room.

He spotted Ma-Ti in the opposite corner- his legs curled up beneath him as he slept on the hard linoleum floor, using a blanket as a pillow.

Gi was asleep in the chair beside the bed, her eyes and limbs twitching every now and again as she dozed fitfully.

Wheeler was still under the effects of the sedation and slept on, oblivious to the events of the past few hours. He was pale but breathing steadily, the rise and fall of his chest causing his sling and cast to move with it.

Kwame checked his watch. It was 4:17am but he was now wide-awake. He glanced upwards, his brow creasing as his thoughts turned to Linka. He pushed himself to his feet, stepping over the pile of blankets and pillows the nurses had left for them. He exited the room and wandered towards the nurse's station.

The corridor was quiet and dimly lit as he approached the counter. One of the night shift nurses smiled as he approached. He asked if there were any updates and she shook her head, regarding him with a sympathetic smile.

He sighed, thanking her before returning to the room. The waiting was downright awful, but it was made more difficult by the fact that only immediate family members were allowed inside the intensive care unit. His eyes drifted towards the heavy bulk on the bed, thankful that the American was still under the effects of the drugs.

 _Probably for the best, under current circumstances._

He stretched and leaned against the wall, glancing towards Gi. Her elbows were perched on the armrests and her body was twisted. Gi's chin had lolled against her chest, putting her in danger of falling forwards.

Kwame eased himself off the wall and approached the chair, gently gripping her shoulders and settling her backwards. Gi's eyes fluttered open immediately.

"No change?" she asked softly, her voice thick with sleep.

"No."

Gi pursed her lips and nodded, dark circles present under her eyes. She rubbed her face with her hands, before glancing at Ma-Ti.

"Have her family arrived?"

Kwame nodded, crouching down beside Gi and speaking in low tones to avoid waking the others.

"Yes. Mishka is with her now, and her Grandmother is on her way."

"Oh." Gi chewed on her lip, her eyes glancing towards Wheeler. "Any word on Plunder?"

Kwame sighed. "They closed the borders, but he would have been well clear of them by then." Kwame's eyes darkened with anger, frustrated that the eco-villain had slipped through their fingers after causing so much damage. "Blight and Sludge are behind bars tonight though. For how long remains to be seen."

Gi sighed and shifted again, glancing towards Wheeler. She flinched as she realized that Wheeler was awake, his blue eyes regarding them silently.

"Hey," she said, leaning towards him. "How are you feeling?"

He groaned, rolling over to face her. "Like hammered shit," he said in a rasping voice, no doubt due to the intubation due to the surgery.

Wheeler raised his hand and it lingered for a moment in mid-air. He stared uncomprehendingly as he noticed the cannula embedded within his vein. Wheeler's forehead creased as he looked around in confusion, noticing his surroundings for the first time.

Kwame anticipated a number of possible scenarios from the temperamental redhead. He stepped forward and perched himself on the edge of the bed, ready to act if required.

"What the hell? Where…" Wheeler had tried to sit up, but Kwame was prepared. He gently pushed his friend back into the mattress, holding him down with his palm flat against the American's chest.

"We are in a hospital in Johannesburg. You've had surgery on your arm and…"

Wheeler only appeared to be half listening as he scanned the surroundings for the others and finding a team member still missing. "Where the fuck is Linka?"

He attempted to sit up again, but Kwame applied further pressure. "Ma-Ti found her. She is upstairs in intensive care. Her brother is with her."

Wheeler began to struggle again but Kwame was having none of it. He leaned forward, holding the American down and speaking calmly but authoritatively.

"She's alive but in bad shape. We think her ring stopped some of the momentum but she still fell too hard." Kwame looked away from Wheeler's distraught face, unable to cope with the American's stunned expression.

"Jesus," he whispered, barely noticing Gi grasping his hand from the chair beside him.

Kwame sighed heavily, still unable to maintain eye contact with the American. "She has a broken leg, her spleen was ruptured and she was bleeding internally for a few hours before she was found. There's also a major head wound and some swelling on the brain."

"Is she gonna' be all right?" Wheeler asked, his voice cracking on the last syllable. He squeezed Gi's hand as he heard quiet sniffing coming from her direction.

Kwame shrugged tiredly. "They've induced a coma. She's on a ventilator. They're hoping to give her body some time to recover before they wean her off. That's all we know."

"Can we see her?"

Kwame shook his head. "No," he said firmly. "They're allowing us to crash here for the moment and it was a stretch for Ma-Ti to even convince them to do that. Immediate family only in ICU, hospital policy…"

Wheeler scoffed, his jaw tense as he glared out towards the corridor. "Well, with all due respect, they can shove that policy up their fucking…"

"Calm down," Kwame interrupted, his eyes flashing as he bore down on Wheeler. A touch of anger accented his words, causing the red-head to shrink back slightly. "Just calm down. You're not the only one who cares about her. Just think about it. They're already stretched to capacity with the girls admitted for observation. You cause a scene and it will have implications for all of us. Understand?"

Wheeler's shoulders slumped. He was unaccustomed to seeing their leader starting to lose his composure. He gritted his teeth but said nothing and Kwame knew his point had been accepted.

"I am sorry, my friend," Kwame said, releasing his hold on Wheeler and watching him flop back against the pillows. "It has been a downright terrible day. I do not want to spend what is left of it fighting with you."

Kwame sighed, watching his friend stare ahead, processing the new information. The African glanced at Gi as she sat quietly, trembling as she wiped fresh tears away from her cheeks.

"You are exhausted Gi. Try and get some sleep while you can."

She shook her head. "I can't get comfortable."

"Here," Wheeler said, using his good arm to shuffle over to the edge of the bed. He patted the mattress beside him and Gi gratefully accepted, climbing in as the American pulled the covers over them. She snuggled into his side, propping her head against the pillow.

"Thank you," she said softly as he turned and wrapped his cast and sling awkwardly around her waist. Her eyelids were already drooping closed.

"No probs," he said as Kwame dropped into the chair Gi had just vacated. "Better cuddling with you than with grumpy-pants over there."

"I heard that."

"You were meant to." Wheeler replied. He exhaled, comforted by the warm weight of Gi's body beside him. "You'll wake me up if there's any news?"

"Yes.

Wheeler settled back against the pillows, listening to the steady beep of the machinery in the room and the footsteps pacing the corridor outside. He felt foggy and light-headed and was now struggling to focus on objects within the room.

He felt Gi stir and his nose twitched as her hair brushed against his face. She readjusted her position and shuffled herself until her back was close against his chest. Her breathing resumed its steady pace and Wheeler's eyes began to feel heavy, as he was lulled into sleep once again.

* * *

"How could this happen?" Mishka's accent was unmistakable as Wheeler stirred into wakefulness. He sat up quickly, straining hard to hear the conversation going on just outside the door. "Linka has spent the last six years reassuring us that she is in no immediate danger! And now look at her!"

"There has always been an element of danger, Mishka." Ma-Ti's voice floated above the background noise, doing his best to placate Linka's irate brother. "But I will admit we underestimated how badly this mission would turn out."

"Tell that to our _grandmother._ She is beside herself, hasn't stopped sobbing since she arrived. How could this happen? And what is to stop this from happening again?"

Wheeler was unable to hear Ma-Ti's response. He looked around, seeing the sunlight filtering through the window and realized it was daytime. Gi was still asleep beside him; her mouth open slightly and her leg resting on top of the blankets as she slept on, unburdened by the noise outside.

The American leaned forward, listening to Mishka's voice getting steadily louder. He heard Kwame talking in low tones but Linka's brother wasn't backing down.

"My sister is up there looking like a wax mannequin, with tubes and pumps and god-knows what else jammed down her throat." Mishka groaned at the image but his voice softened. "Look, I'm not blaming you. I know you have all been through a lot. But you need to understand that Linka is all we have left. Grandmother will not survive this if Linka doesn't make it."

"We know. We can't begin to tell you how worried we have been."

Mishka sighed. "How is the _Amerikanskaya_?"

"Broken arm, severed tendons and some cuts and knocks to the back of his head. He is doing well considering. Pretty much completed the mission single handed."

Gi's body shifted and Wheeler looked down, noticing for the first time that her eyes were open and also directed towards the conversation happening just out of their view. He caught her eye and gave her a reassuring smile. She gave a small smile in return, stretching her arms above her head.

"I am glad he is all right," Mishka said, and Wheeler surprised to hear that Mishka seemed to genuinely mean it.

"Have the doctors spoken to you?" Kwame asked.

"Yes. They say Linka's vital signs are very good. The swelling in her brain has reduced and the surgeries went well. The doctors will wean her off the drugs this afternoon and it is hoped the ventilator will not be required overnight. She should be awake within twelve to twenty-four hours"

"That is wonderful," Kwame said, the relief evident in his voice. "We appreciate you keeping us updated."

The voices trailed off, and Wheeler realized that they had walked away. He sat back against the headboard, contemplating the conversation. Gi turned over, resting her cheek against the inside of her arm as she looked up at the American, the relief evident on her face.

He grinned at her, moving his cast and tapping her repeatedly over the head with it.

"Quit it," she grumbled, her lips curving into a smile as she smacked it away. "God, you're annoying in a wide range of situations, aren't you?"

"Yep."

"So she's going to be fine." Gi grinned. "I honestly thought the worst when I saw her last night."

Wheeler turned to face her, clearly surprised. "You guys saw her?"

"Yeah, when they first brought her in. I honestly thought…" She trailed off, tucking her hair behind her ear as she studied the criss-cross pattern of the blanket they were sitting under. "I thought she was a goner."

"Nah. Lin's too stubborn for that." He chuckled, giving Gi an affectionate elbow to the ribs. "By tomorrow she'll be henpecking the surgeons on their stitching skills."

Gi laughed. "Yeah. Hey, did they find the animals?"

"What animals?"

Gi groaned, rolling her eyes. "You know, the original eco-alert? Before we were blown out of the sky?"

Wheeler scratched his chin. He'd honestly forgotten. "Geez. I'm sure they did. Friggin' Plunder."

"Yeah," she muttered. Gi glanced at the American, a delighted smile spreading over her features. "She's gonna be okay!"

Wheeler nodded, smiling down at her.

She pushed herself into a sitting position and settled beside him. The pair sat in a companionable silence for a while, watching people bustle past the doorway. A nurse eventually entered to check Wheeler's blood pressure and bandages, before moving on to the next room.

Gi glanced at the nurse's retreating figure. "I think Gaia is going to need to approve a serious amount of sick leave…"

Wheeler raised his eyebrows, laughing quietly. "Are we entitled to sick leave? It's not as if we signed a contract of employment, Gi."

She giggled; the sudden levity a refreshing change from the events of the past twenty-four hours, especially in light of Linka's most recent progress update. "Annual leave? Dental plan?"

He raised his cast. "Medical?"

"Collision coverage." Gi smiled at him. "Gaia has a lot to answer for. Her working conditions are a little lacking."

"We'll form a union."

"What will we call it?"

Wheeler grinned at her, considering his options. "Planeteer Industrial Support Squad. Or 'PISS' for short."

Gi snorted, clapping her hand over her mouth as she dissolved into hysterics. Wheeler soon joined her, their cackles drawing strange looks from the middle-aged woman who entered the room pushing a food trolley.

A breakfast tray was loaded onto the bedside table before the employee bustled away to continue her rounds.

"God, I'm starvin'," Wheeler said, offering Gi a piece of toast. She took it gratefully. He sighed, spreading jam over his toast and demolishing it within two bites. "Whaddya' think my chances are of sneaking in to see Lin tonight?"

She laughed, regarding him with a sly smile. "If anyone can find a way, it's you Wheeler."


	11. Chapter 11

After the Fall

 **Chapter Eleven**

Wheeler peered out of the small window as the evening sun set behind the city beyond. He sighed, reaching forward and touching the grimy spots of dirt and dust staining the glass. He turned away and dropped down onto the bed, a huff of exasperation escaping his lips.

The American's eyes glanced towards the other side of the hospital room. He had been moved from the comfort of a private room after the others had left. Now sharing with another patient, his room mate was shielded from view and they were separated by a thick curtain.

Ma-Ti, Kwame and Gi had returned to Hope Island for the night. It had been a reluctant move on their part, but a necessary one. There were loose ends to tie up, missing rings to locate and necessities to gather for the two Planeteers yet to be discharged from hospital.

He'd bid them goodbye; leaning against the doorframe and raising his good hand.

"Don't forget my clothes!" he'd called out to their retreating figures. Gi had turned and waved back, flashing him a genuine smile.

"Ring me when she wakes up," she'd replied as they had disappeared around the corner, her voice reverberating throughout the small corridor. He knew they were on their way to meet Gaia at the rendezvous point.

Wheeler hadn't even bothered returning to his room at that stage. He'd high-tailed it straight towards the lift and ridden it to the third floor. The doors had lurched and shuddered as they opened, giving him an uncomfortably close view of the ICU front counter. He had focused his eyes on the floor and stepped out, striding past the nurses with his free hand in his pocket, doing his best to look like he was meant to be there.

He checked the numbers on the doors as he passed, glancing in at the solemn figures, grieving as they gathered around their sick loved ones.

Wheeler reached room seven and paused, suddenly filled with nervous apprehension. The door to Linka's room was closed all the way, with the curtains drawn alongside the partition windows. He raised his hand, his fingers hovering over the door handle. He knew Mishka would be inside, as well as Linka's _nona._ Linka was very close to her family. It was obvious that they cared deeply for one another, keeping in regular contact.

Linka had recently been a bridesmaid at her brother's wedding and also maintained a positive relationship with her new sister-in-law.

His thoughts turned briefly to his own mother and father, and the dysfunctional life he had turned his back on when he first became a Planeteer.

 _Dad wouldn't put me out if I was on fire._

A memory was dragged forth from the depths of his subconscious. It was one of many. He recalled his mother working 60 hour weeks for the majority of his grade-school life and his father too drunk by 6pm to organise dinner for his seven year old son. Wheeler's jaw clenched, recalling the time he'd attempted to boil some pasta while his dad lay passed-out in front of the football.

He'd dragged a chair over in order to reach the spaghetti in the top cupboard and it had tipped over, sending him crashing to the floor. Agony had flared in his ankle and he'd cried out in pain, clutching at his swelling limb.

His father had woken with a roar and surged forward, giving him a belt across the head and leaving his tear-streaked child where he'd fallen. Nick Wheeler had slammed the door behind him, muttering under his breath as he'd staggered out the door, no doubt headed for the bar on the corner.

Wheeler had remained in the same spot, crying silently until his mother had arrived home. The familiar anger and resentment bubbled to the surface when he recalled his mother's reaction.

 _"_ _Oh, sweetheart; you know better than to make your father angry!"_

His mother had a habit of justifying and excusing her husband's behaviour. Never mind that the little boy hadn't eaten since breakfast, or that he'd snapped a ligament and that his father was too drunk to organise medical attention.

Even at that tender age, he had fully grasped the unfairness of the situation.

He felt a sudden, irrational flare of jealousy as he imagined Linka's family perched over her, holding her hand, whispering to her. Fussing over her. Loving and missing and caring for her. He bit it back, pushing it to the depths of his mind and feeling ashamed of himself.

Various thoughts danced through his head, each one unburdened but causing his stomach to swirl with nerves. He wondered if he would be welcomed if he entered Linka's room, or if he would be asked to leave by her brother. Would they blame him for what happened?

Wheeler frowned, suddenly feeling like an intruder.

 _I have no right to be here. What am I to her anyway?_

He sighed. He just wanted to see her, to grasp some tangible proof that she was there. Wheeler was torn between opening the door and dealing with the consequences, or turning around and returning to his room.

Feeling dejected and defeated, he chose the latter.

* * *

"Hey," a voice spoke softly. Wheeler looked up in surprise. He hadn't heard anyone come in. Mishka took a seat beside him, gesturing towards the TV. "Local soap opera?"

Wheeler nodded, stretching his arm above his head. "Yeah. Can't make heads or tails of it, but it beats the boredom somewhat."

Mishka nodded. Wheeler hadn't seen Linka's brother for about twelve months. His hair was shorter now, but still the same flax-coloured shade as his sister. Broad shoulders and a prematurely lined face, made more so by the events of the past twenty-four hours. But his smile was genuine and Wheeler couldn't help smiling back in return.

"How much longer are you here for?"

"I'm bein' discharged tomorrow," he said.

"That's good to hear." Mishka grinned at him. "Are you heading home to New York to recover?"

"Aw, hell no," he answered, switching the television off and settling himself against the pillows piled up against the head board. "I guess I'll just hang around on Hope Island for a while and annoy the others. How's your sister?"

Mishka face transformed as his face lit up. "Linka is off the vent. She's doing great, she even opened her eyes a few hours ago. Don't think she noticed us though. Still out of it."

Wheeler exhaled, shakily, relieved beyond words. "That's great." He sat quietly, feeling slightly uncomfortable as Mishka's eyes glanced over his injuries. They settled on his temple and the shrapnel scars from the bullet narrowly missing him.

"Is that what I think it is?"

"Oh," Wheeler said, touching his forehead self-consciously. "Yeah. One of Plunder's guy's got a little trigger-happy."

Mishka's mouth dropped open. " _Bozshe moi,"_ he muttered, appalled at how close the bullet had come. "Wheeler, I think it might be time to reconsider your employment options. This is getting ridiculous."

"Yeah," Wheeler breathed, but he really couldn't think of anything more useful to add so he stayed quiet.

"I'm surprised you haven't been up to see her?" Mishka's green eyes twinkled with amusement. "From what our Little Linka has told us, you are not exactly the type who would let hospital rules get in your way."

Wheeler chuckled. He contemplated his response, but in the end, decided to be honest. "I've snuck up there three times, actually. Shift manager had me escorted back to my room twice and threatened to hand-cuff me to the bed."

Mishra chuckled. "Fair enough. And the third time?"

Wheeler shrugged, his eyes downcast as he fiddled with the silver bracelet clutched within his hands. "Door was closed. Didn't wanna intrude."

Mishka's face belied warmth as he regarded his sister's friend fondly. "You are as much her family as we are these days, Wheeler."

The afternoon tea cart was pushed inside and a tray was placed on the swivel table beside him. They both glanced at it, the pot of tea and biscuits looking rather appetising.

They chatted for a little while, sharing the food and discussing light, fluffy topics until Linka's grandmother entered the room. She greeted the American warmly by gripping his shoulders and kissing him on both cheeks. Nona muttered under her breath in Russian as she leaned over her granddaughter's colleague, taking note of the arm cast, sling and the smattering of bandages and scrapes covering his body.

She gestured towards the American, addressing Mishka in rapid-fire Russian. He responded in kind and Wheeler knew she was asking about him. Nona clucked her tongue in sympathy, settling herself in the seat Mishka vacated for her.

Wheeler smiled at her, always happy to see her (in spite of the circumstances). Linka's _Nona_ was a kind and affectionate woman who radiated warmth and love. Wheeler regarded her quietly for a moment, taking in her pinched face and the dark circles under her eyes. She looked tired.

Mishka sighed, his eyes glancing towards the doorway. "Anyway, I need to take _nona_ back to the hotel for a rest. She is a little… how do you say, _overwrought,_ I think? We will return in the morning."

Wheeler raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Oh? Fair enough."

Mishka stood up, offering his arm to his grandmother who gladly took it.

"I've added you to the visitor's log while we're gone. It would be nice for her to see a familiar face if she wakes up. Night shift will begin at 8pm, so there will be a changeover of staff. You shouldn't have any management issues like today."

Wheeler beamed at him, watching as Mishka reached into his pocket and tossed something metallic beside the tea pot. The American's expression became confused as he glanced at the gold ring, lying in a small puddle of water.

"I appreciate it, man. Thanks. What's that for?" he asked, gesturing towards the jewellery as they made their way towards the door.

Mishka winked, a knowing smile gracing his lips. "Family only, Wheeler. I put you down as her fiancé." Linka's brother laughed, taking note of Wheeler's gob-smacked expression. "I'll pick it up from you in the morning!"

With that they left, leaving Wheeler alone with his rapidly cooling pot of tea and the deeply overwhelming feeling of _acceptance._ It was a feeling he wasn't used to. He grabbed another biscuit and munched on it thoughtfully, checking his phone on the bedside table.

He found a photo message waiting for him from Gi and he opened it. She'd taken the picture as a selfie and the bottom left corner featured a close-up of her eye and forehead wrinkled in disapproval, with his untidy room in the background.

 _"_ _Ma-Ti gathering some stuff for you. Clean your damn room. Pig."_

Wheeler chuckled and replied immediately.

 _"_ _Don't try to change me, woman."_

His eyes noticed the time on the phone display. Wheeler dropped the device back onto the bedside table. Grabbing the remote, he flicked the television on and settled back, resigning himself to a torturous two hour wait.

He had briefly considered chancing a visit earlier, but the shift manager had threatened to call security the last time. Wheeler had no plans to spend the night cuffed to the bed, especially not with his fire-ring still missing in action.

So with little else to do, Wheeler closed his eyes instead.

* * *

A sharp pain pulsed through the flesh below his shoulder and he gasped, sitting upright. Wheeler quickly realised that he had turned over and landed on his bad shoulder. The room was dimly lit now and the television had been turned off.

The American fumbled for his phone and his eyes narrowed as he took in the time.

 _9:30pm. Shit._

Wheeler swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood, shivering. He grabbed his backpack and pulled out his fleece jacket; the only spare item of clothing he had left until the others arrived in the morning. He pushed his free hand through the sleeve and draped the other side over his shoulder as best he could, trying to stave off the frigid air-conditioned chill.

He made his way towards the elevator and rode it upwards. Stepping out onto the third floor, he saw that the nurses station was empty as he walked onwards. Her door was closed but he slipped inside without hesitation, noting the two empty beds and a curtained-off section at the far end where the third bed would no doubt be.

Passing around the curtain, a wave of grief settled over him as he spotted her. Linka's leg was visible, and he was shocked to discover pins and screws attached to either side of her lower limb, holding her shattered tibia together. Wheeler had known her leg was broken, but hadn't been aware of the extent of the damage.

He sunk down into the seat beside her, his shoulders slumped as he let his eyes wander over her face. She was pale but still achingly beautiful. Vulnerable. More vulnerable than he had ever seen her, or ever wanted to see her. Wheeler reached over and placed the palm of his hand against the side of her face, stroking his thumb against her cheek.

Her skin was cool to the touch but soft under his fingertips. His fingers brushed against her hair and he sighed. Usually thick and wavy, her blonde tresses were now dull and lank against the pillow and trailing down her arms and shoulders. He let his fingers slip through the strands, pushing her hair gently away from her forehead.

He'd always loved her hair. On the rare occasions she wore it down, it fell in glossy waves to her lower back. He often wondered what it would be like to bury his face and hands within that hair during quieter, not so innocent moments.

Wheeler sat back, reaching for her hand instead. He held it between his own, his fingers lightly trembling over the skin of her knuckle, palm and wrist. His eyes drifted to the cannula embedded within her other hand, lying limply across her chest.

It honestly grieved him to see her like this. He hadn't been prepared for the emotional reaction as he swallowed, blinking back tears.

"Hey babe," he said softly, watching the rise and fall of her chest, her lips slightly parted as she slept on, oblivious to his ministrations. He squeezed her fingers, rubbing her knuckle again with his thumb.

"Wake up soon. We miss you."

He frowned down at her hand, kissing her palm gently and laying his cheek down on the bed beside her shoulder. He pressed his forehead against her bare arm, his breath whispering against her skin.

"I miss you."

* * *

 **Hi guys... Thanks so much for the reviews. We're winding down now. I haven't given much in the way of W/L interaction in this fic as I intended it to be more of a hard-core eco-alert.**

 **Having said that, I'm envisioning 1-2 more chapters in this fic which will reunite the team members. I am also toying with writing a one-shot, dealing with the aftermath between two certain characters. It will be a stand-alone but linked to the events of this story.**

 **Let me know what you think.**


	12. Chapter 12

Guide You Home

 **Chapter Twelve**

 _"_ _Look! Can you name that one?"_

 _The little blonde girl scrunched up her nose, concentrating as she watched the tiny creature flitter above the bird bath in their tiny backyard._

 _"_ _It is a grey wagtail, Mama," the little girl said, her voice expressing delight. She grinned, glancing towards her mother. "That was too easy!"_

 _The woman smiled as she resumed preparing the ingredients for dinner. She glanced out the window again, nodding her head in the same direction as before. "And that one?"_

 _The child turned her head, pressing her nose against the cold glass from her vantage point; perched alongside the mixing bowl on top of the kitchen bench._

 _"_ _A bullfinch! No, wait…" she said, pre-empting her mothers correction as she squinted hard. "A crossbill!_

 _The woman laughed, tossing cabbage and diced beetroot into the large pot sitting on the stove. "You are too clever for your own good, moya lyubov."_

 _The little girl grinned at her mother as she sat; propped up against the kitchen wall and clasping her hands within her lap. Her thick blonde hair fell in waves against her pale skin and her legs dangled over the edge of the kitchen counter. The woman leaned forward affectionately, tucking stray tendrils behind her daughter's ear._

 _She sighed in spite of herself, running her eyes fondly over the child's delicate features. She was going to be a heartbreaker._

 _Another bird approached the bird-bath and the little girl's green eyes followed it's movements. It seemed to suspend in mid-air, before dropping gracefully onto the edge of the concrete bowl._

 _"_ _A garden warbler!"_

 _The woman nodded, turning the stove on low and dusting her hands against the apron she was wearing. She smiled._

 _"_ _Very good! What do they love to eat more than anything?"_

 _"_ _Berries!"_

 _She reached forward and tickled the youngster under the armpits, delighting in watching the child squirm and gasp with laughter._

 _"_ _Yes. Berries." She swept forward and lifted the little girl off the bench, setting her down on the cold stone floor. "You will soon be teaching the teachers, dorogoy."_

 _"_ _Will Mishka be home soon?"_

 _"_ _Da. Now go and set the table for dinner. Your father will be home soon, too."_

 _"_ _Okay, Mama."_

 _The little girl bounced away, her hair flying along behind her. Katja checked her watch, aware that there would probably be about an hour overlap of 'family time' before she started her shift at the meat-packing plant. Weekdays were always hectic but at least they were financially better off than most. The recession had hit hard and there were many living without the bare necessities._

 _Katja quickly changed into her work uniform, putting on a thin layer of make-up and wrapping her hair into a tight bun. She fastened a net around her head and returned to the kitchen, greeting Mishka as he slunk through the front door after his afternoon play date. He dropped his school bag to the floor and climbed into his seat at the kitchen table, asking what was for dinner._

 _"_ _Borsch," she replied, smiling as her husband also entered the kitchen. Pyotr greeted her with a kiss, before removing his boots and jacket. He approached his daughter as she sat with her nose buried within a book on the small sofa. Planting his lips against forehead, he wandered towards the bathroom to rid himself of the dirt and grime from the mine._

 _They sat down to eat, trading laughter and stories about their day. As the plates were cleared, Pyotr rounded up the children for their baths as Katja threw her handbag over her shoulder. She blew them kisses as she departed into the night, bracing herself against the cold sleet that had begun falling onto the street below._

* * *

A sob escaped Linka's lips as she turned her head, blinking back tears. The pillow was damp against her cheek. The Russian's lips trembled as she struggled to get her breathing under control. The image of her mother's face was still etched in her memory and she moaned, squeezing her eyes tightly shut.

She tried to raise her hand but her movements were slow and almost surreal, as if she were tied underwater. She opened her eyes, blinking. The room seemed blurry with random shapes and colours converging but not forming anything meaningful. It was dark but a warm glow bathed the sheets she appeared to be lying under.

Linka swallowed, her mouth dry as her eyes darted from side to side. Her heart rate increased and she clenched her fists against the sheets, suddenly frightened. Her remaining senses were heightened and everything about this place seemed _alien_ to her. She breathed in the smell of disinfectant and she heard strange beeps and machinery quietly humming around her.

 _Where am I?_

Her fingers scraped against soft hair and she raised her head slightly, sweeping her fingernails over someone's forehead and rough cheek lying pressed against her ribs.

She felt movement and caught a flash of red as the figure shifted in his sleep, before resettling himself with a sigh. The thumping in her chest subsided as she settled her palm against the side of his face, feeling his breath tickling her skin.

 _Wheeler._

Linka groaned, attempting to raise her other hand. This time her sluggish brain was able to synchronise the movement. She took a shuddering breath as she wiped away the tears that had been tracking down her face as a result of her dream. The blonde tried raise her legs. She gasped as a flare of intense pain shot through her lower limb.

The Russian cried out as the tears began to flow again. She gripped Wheeler's hair within her fingers and pulled, desperately trying to wake him.

"Yankee?" she sobbed, further distressed by the sound of her own voice. It sounded utterly unfamiliar to her, rough and croaking. "Wheeler?"

Her bottom lip quivered as Wheeler raised his head and looked at her, blinking sleepily. He ran his hand over his face and sat up immediately; his hair sleep-flattened on one side and sticking up in all directions on the other. He reached out for her with a relieved smile.

"Hey babe," he said softly. "Welcome back to the land of…"

"Where am I? What has happened?" Her eyes were wide and fearful as she clutched at him, pulling him closer. "I don't…I can't…"

Wheeler looked on, alarmed as she grabbed his shoulders and again attempted to pull herself up into a sitting position. She cried out, clutching her abdomen as he steadied her gently back against the pillows.

"Hang on," he said, reaching for the remote control. Linka felt pressure against her back and shoulders and realised the bed was automatically raising her until she was sitting upright.

The girl's face paled further as her gaze settled upon the bulky shape beneath the blanket, hiding the pins and stainless steel rings attached to her lower left leg.

"What is this?" she cried, gesturing to her leg. She wiped her face with the back of her hand, her breathing uneven as her body began to tremble. "What has… Why am I…"

Wheeler quickly vacated the chair and sank down beside her, tossing his uninjured arm around her shoulders. He pulled her towards him, pressing his lips against the side of her forehead. Linka had begun hyperventilating and he laid his cast across her thigh in an effort to steady her.

"We're in a hospital in Jo'burg, Lin," he whispered. "We were hit by a missile and you fell outta' the Geo-Cruiser."

She didn't reply but he felt the muscles in her back tense up against his arm. She shuddered, tucking her head against his neck.

"I don't remember anything," she croaked, shaking her head. Linka clutched the sheets within her fists and her eyes met Wheeler's worried glance. "It hurts."

He nodded. "You've broken your leg pretty badly, babe." He paused, before continuing. "And I'm afraid your spleen's taken a permanent vacation."

"My spleen?" Her hand dropped to her lower stomach and she winced, feeling the surgical dressing under her hospital gown. "Oh god…."

She felt Wheeler readjust his position as he shuffled himself further onto the bed, folding his leg at the knee and propping it between her back and the pillows. He settled himself against the headboard and brought his other leg up to rest against her uninjured limb.

"You also hit your head on the way down. Had some swelling on the brain, but luckily no spinal damage."

Wheeler's arms wrapped tightly around her waist and she settled back against him, sniffling every now and again. They sat in silence for a while as her breathing became slow and steady again. Her gaze was drawn towards the cast lying across her thigh.

"You have broken your arm?" she whispered, lifting his cast and turning it over in her hands.

"Yeah," he replied, wriggling the fingers peeking out from beneath the plaster. "Stuffed my shoulder up too."

"Are the others all right?"

"Yep. They've gone home but'll be back tomorrow. Your family are here too."

"Oh."

Linka sighed as Wheeler reached for her hand, running his thumb in lazy circles around her palm. Her head dipped back against his shoulder and he pressed a kiss against her forehead.

"You scared the shit out of us, babe," he said, feeling Linka relax against him. "We couldn't find you."

"I'm sorry," she murmured, her voice thick and sleepy. "I really do not remember anything…"

"Probably for the best."

He could see that she was fading. Linka's eyes were closed and her breathing was becoming heavy again. He pushed a clump of hair away from her forehead and trailed his fingers down her cheek. A hint of a smile briefly graced her lips.

"Will you be here when I wake up?" Her voice was barely audible.

"If cranky _Nurse Ratchet_ doesn't find me here? Then yeah." Wheeler pulled the blankets over their bodies, feeling comforted by her closeness and warmth. "Go back to sleep, babe."

She made a small, unintelligible sound in response and he knew she had already slipped away into dreamland. Wheeler watched her for a moment, noting her eyelids twitching and her cheeks beginning to gain some colour.

The American yawned. He threaded her fingers between his own and finally closed his eyes, feeling at peace for the first time in days.

He slept deeply for the remainder of the night, only waking when the day shift staff found them the next morning.

* * *

Linka stretched her arms above her head, smiling fondly as her grandmother fussed over her hospital bed.

"I am fine," she said, wincing slightly as the old woman leaned over her to tuck in the blankets and inadvertently bumped the plates surrounding her leg.

"Let her worry, Linka," Mishka said, rolling her eyes with a chuckle. "It gives her something to do."

"Are you in pain?" Her grandmother's accent was thick as she switched to English, peering down at Linka worriedly.

"Nyet, they are giving me regular pain relief, Baba," she said. "Honestly, I am feeling well enough."

"Where is Wheeler?" Mishka asked, offering her an apple. She shook her head, still unable to eat hard foods. Her throat felt like sand-paper, an after-effect of the tubing forced down her windpipe during her sedation.

"He was dragged back to his room first thing this morning," she said, glancing towards the door. "He is not permitted back until his discharge papers are signed."

Mishka laughed. "Poor guy. He has certainly been through the ringer."

"How so?" she asked, glancing at her grandmother as the older woman ran a brush through her long blonde hair. Her breath caught as the bristles hit a snag. " _Bozhe moy,_ Baba. I am capable of combing my own hair!"

Linka's brother shrugged, watching Baba with amusement. "Well, lets see if I have this right. He broke his arm, severed tendons below his shoulder. Was shot at, beaten up by one of your enemies and still managed to find the girls and free them."

The blonde's face paled. " _Kakogo cherta_? He did not tell me all of this. And what girls?" she queried, frowning with confusion.

Mishka took a bite of his apple and sat back, crossing his leg over his knee. "I'm sure your friends will fill you in."

Linka gritted her teeth as Baba began braiding her hair, separating sections and folding them tightly against her scalp. She gasped as her head was forced towards her grandmother's body. "Ouch! _Chto bolit,_ Baba!"

"Hey," Wheeler said as he entered the room, waving his discharge papers in the air. "My 'get outta jail free' card finally arrived."

He dropped his bag beside Mishka's chair and dragged a seat over from the empty bed beside Linka. Wheeler slumped down into it, a mischievous look on his face.

"Hello, Yankee," she said, her face lighting up as she gave him a small wave.

"The others are on there way, should be here within half an hour. Want some yoghurt?" he asked, reaching into his pocket and tossing the container into Linka's hands. "Thought it'd be okay on your throat."

She gave him a warm smile, accepting the spoon he passed to her. "Where did you get this?"

He winked at her and grinned. "Chatted up the food and beverage chick. I think I've eaten my body weight in ice cream and pudding already…"

Linka muttered something under her breath but she grinned nonetheless, opening the lid and dipping her spoon in. She swallowed gratefully, savouring the taste and texture. She was starving.

"Playing hairdressers?" Wheeler teased, watching Linka's head bob from side to side with the force of her grandmother's french braid.

"Da. She will be spoon-feeding me by lunch-time," Linka muttered as the woman carefully plaited the bottom section of her braid, fastening an elastic band at the base. She turned and frowned up at her grandmother. "Are you planning on applying my make-up, too?"

The elderly woman chuckled, cupping her granddaughter's face in her hands and planting a kiss on top of her head. "Nonsense, child. When you look your best, you will feel your best. Isn't that right, Wheeler?"

The American laughed and shrugged, glancing up at his beautiful colleague. "Not much there that needs improving on, in all honesty."

Linka flushed prettily, rubbing her thumb over her bottom lip as her Grandmother made a small sound of delight in Wheeler's direction. "You are a charmer, _Amerikanskiy mal'chik."_ She stepped forward and ruffled his hair affectionately before returning to sit on the edge of the hospital bed.

Linka's eyes settled on Wheeler from across the room; watching on quietly as he chatted easily with her brother. Her gaze swept up towards the scarring dotting his forehead, oblivious to the fact that her grandmother was addressing her in Russian.

Her attention returned when she heard Mishka snort, placing his hand over his eyes.

"I am sorry?" she asked, peering at her grandmother's questioning face. The older woman gestured once again towards Wheeler and repeated her question in their native language. Linka's mouth dropped open and her face turned beet-red.

"Nyet, Baba," she hissed through gritted teeth, ignoring Mishka's laughter and refusing to meet the confused expression on Wheeler's face.

The uncomfortable situation quickly dissolved when Ma-Ti rushed through the door. He gave a cry of relief when he saw Linka and was quick to throw his arms around his teammate. Ma-Ti embraced her tightly, touching her cheek affectionately as Kwame and Gi entered.

"You had us all very worried," Ma-Ti said softly. "Next time you decide to sky-dive out of a plane, take a parachute, Linka!"

The Russian laughed, smoothing the sheets against her thighs as Gi approached, her face tense and fretful.

"Oh god," Gi gasped, leaning over and throwing her arms around her best friend's neck. "Oh, you look so pink and healthy!"

"What colour was I before?" Linka wondered aloud, a crease forming in her brow. She smiled as Kwame leaned in and pressed his lips against her forehead. He settled himself against the wall beside Wheeler, nodding towards Mishka in greeting.

"You were blue when they brought you in," Gi said as an involuntary shudder passed through her. "Do you remember anything?"

"Nyet, I do not," she sighed, leaning back against the pillows and focusing on her brother as he rose to his feet.

Mishka smiled, placing his hands gently on his Grandmother's shoulders. "We will leave you to catch up," he said, smiling at the group as he led his charge out into the corridor and towards the cafeteria.

The Planeteers watched them go; their voices low and hushed as they filled Linka in on the events of the past forty-eight hours.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen**

Linka sat in the small courtyard located beside the hospital cafeteria, lightly thrumming her fingernails against the rubber tyres of her wheelchair. She sighed, blowing a loose clump of hair out of her eyes as she watched people talking in hushed voices to one another.

A sandwich, coffee and a glossy magazine lay open on the table beside her; one of several purchased by Gi in a bid to help alleviate the boredom and restlessness.

She had been here for just over a week now and was eager to leave. The monotony of hospital life had reached a crescendo and she found herself pining for the white sands of Hope Island. It frustrated her no end that her wish was still out of her grasp… at least for a little while longer.

The Russian had been advised that she could be discharged as early as tomorrow and she was clinging to that with all her might. Despite Linka's objections however, her time recuperating wouldn't be back home with her team-mates: the next two weeks would be spent at her brother's house.

Accessibility on Hope Island was not exactly wheelchair-friendly and the rest of the Planeteers had enough on their very busy plates without having to worry about her.

But she was confident her body would recover quickly. She had a moderate scar embedded within her hairline, however the stitches were small and she hoped the scarring would be minimal. It was assumed that Linka had hit her head as she fell from the geo-cruiser but apart from some general dizziness, the injury could have been a lot worse.

The wires and rods had been removed from Linka's leg and replaced with a plaster cast. Her tibia was healing well, but mobility was an issue. The abdominal surgery from her ruptured spleen meant that crutches were out of the question, since she was unable to use her stomach muscles to shift her body weight. So for the moment, Linka had to persevere with the wheelchair.

She had become quite adept at manoeuvring herself around the corridors and had initially delighted in checking every corner of the medical facility. But the novelty quickly wore off once her visitors had returned home. She had spent the last few days hanging out near the cafeteria, watching the world go by.

Linka's phone buzzed and she reached for it, swiping the screen across with her thumb. It was a message from Gi, who had been blowing her phone up with messages several times per day.

The previous message had been a photo of the Water Planeteer's feet; Gi's painted toenails curled upwards against the backdrop of Hope Island's beautiful sandy beach.

Linka's response to that had been rather uncouth.

She laughed as she opened the most recent message. The image consisted of Gi standing in the kitchen, clowning around with her eyes crossed and her mouth slightly agape. Only this 'selfie' also included a pair of bright blue eyes peeking mischievously over Gi's shoulder. Linka grinned as she read the short amount of text.

 _"_ _Pyro's back in action."_

She dialled Gi's number and only had to wait a few moments. Gi's chirpy voice quickly put a smile on the Wind Planeteer's face.

"Hey there!"

"Hello," Linka said, delighted to hear her best friend's voice. "How is everything going?"

"Yeah, good," Gi said as the line crackled somewhat. "Hang on, I'm in a bad spot."

Linka waited patiently, smiling as she heard Kwame's low voice in the background. She heard a door slam, then shuffling before Gi's voice returned.

"Okay, all better. Everything's good! It's so good to hear your voice!"

"You too!" she said warmly. "Any word on Blight and Plunder?" Linka asked, biting her lip.

"Hmph. Blight somehow made bail and skipped town soon after," Gi said with a sigh. "Idiots, we warned them but the judge didn't listen. Oh, and Sludge was indicted, but since his name isn't on any of the paperwork, he'll probably walk."

Linka grimaced, annoyed but not surprised at the news. "What about Plunder?"

"He's gone. Slipped the border patrols and probably caught the first flight out." Gi said. "Slippery little creep that he is."

"How can they cause this much damage and continue to get away with it?" Linka's voice was tense with frustration. "This is appalling!"

"Yeah, I know. Shoulda' heard Kwame lose it during Blight's court hearing. Absolutely blew his stack." Gi seemed rather awed. "I've never seen him lose his temper like that before."

"I think all of our temper's are all a little frayed, Gi," Linka said, staring ahead at the automatic doors, feeling bitterly disappointed at the news. "They nearly killed us. Please tell me Bleak…"

"They've got Bleak for abduction, conspiracy to commit trafficking and common assault based on the testimonies alone."

Linka rolled her eyes. "How long before those charges are rearranged, Gi?"

"Well," Gi said in a droll voice, "I take comfort in the fact that a certain Yankee _rearranged_ Bleak's face before he was dragged away to jail."

Linka winced. Gi had filled her in on everything that had happened, including the American's violent encounter with Argos Bleak. "How is he?"

"Ugh, who cares?" Gi scoffed. "I hope his ugly… Oh wait, you mean Wheeler?"

Linka smiled. "Da, I mean the Yankee."

"Oh. He's all right." Gi sighed, contemplating the American's return. "He's not himself. He misses you. His mom asked him to come home for a few days. I don't think things went well. He's been a bit mopey since he got back."

It saddened Linka to hear this. Gaia had requested that the remaining Planeteers take some time off to recover. Ma-Ti had remained behind on Hope Island, but the others had returned to their respective families for some R&R, entrusting Gaia to make some repairs in their absence. Wheeler was reluctant to head home to Brooklyn but Gi had talked him into it.

"Did something happen?" Linka asked, concern settling across her furrowed brow. She switched the phone to her other hand and reached for her cappuccino.

"He wouldn't say. His mom seemed to really want him home, too," Gi said. "He's been a bit depressed, just kinda' keeping to himself."

Linka leaned back, letting her free hand drop down beside her wheelchair. She missed them all greatly, but she suddenly found herself pining for the American in particular.

"Perhaps I should return to Hope Island tomorrow, instead of going to Mishka's," she said softly. "I could stay in the main building…"

"Linka," Gi began, trying to phrase the rest of her sentence as delicately as possible. "I don't think it's going to work."

"But why not?" Linka said, frustration mounting as she found herself blinking away tears. She just wanted to go _home._ "I will not be a bother to anyone, Gi. I am more than capable of looking after myself!"

"I know," Gi said in an effort to placate her friend. "But we're back to semi-normal routines this week and we're not going to be around if you need us."

"But I do not need people waiting on me hand and _leg_ , Gi," she whispered, wiping tears away with the back of her hand. " _Bozhe moy_ , I am crying again. All I do is cry."

"Oh honey," Gi paused, allowing her friend to compose herself. Stubbornly independent, Gi knew that Linka would be struggling with the thought of being overly reliant on people. "Linka, it's only two weeks. It'll be over before you know it."

"But Irina has taken leave from work to care for me! My Grandmushka is also moving in to help." Linka sniffed, her shoulders slumped as she stared down at her fingernails. "I just want things back to normal."

I know," Gi soothed. "We miss you, okay? Kwame's here and he says to say hello."

"Hello," she said softly, smiling at the sound of his voice in the background.

"I've gotta go, but I'll be there tomorrow morning to pick you up in our sparkly-new geo-cruiser."

"Gaia repaired it?"

"Yeah. Ma-Ti's made some modifications to your chair," she added cheekily, but refused to elaborate when pressed further.

"All right. I will see you tomorrow, Gi."

"Can't wait," Gi said warmly. "And if you behave yourself tonight, I'll bring Mopey along with me… although I don't think he'll take much convincing."

Linka laughed, her mood significantly buoyed. "All right… and I miss you all too."

"Bye, Linka."

"Goodbye," she replied as Gi's voice clicked off, replaced by the empty dial tone. The Russian placed her phone back on the table and sat back against her chair, cursing her current isolation and wishing that she was anywhere but there.

* * *

"Is that everything?"

Gi stood next to the hospital bed with her hands on her hips, watching on as Linka packed away her phone charger and books.

"Da, I think so," the blonde said, looking around to give the room one final sweep. She sat perched on the edge of the bed with her cast resting on the linoleum flooring. She smiled up at Gi while she arranged her hair into a loose ponytail, using the elastic band dangling down from between her teeth. "I am getting anxious to leave."

"That's fair enough," Gi said, regarding her friend affectionately. "We knew you'd be getting cabin fever!"

Linka caught a flash of red streak past the doorway and she rolled her eyes as she grabbed her travel bag. "Yankee, I am in need of my wheelchair!"

Wheeler appeared in the corridor. "This is awesome!" he exclaimed, passing through the doorway and screeching to a halt at Gi's feet. Gi took an involuntary step backwards as the rubber tread came close to scraping her toes. He rolled back and forth on the spot, grinning up at Linka. "Your chariot awaits, my lady."

Linka cocked an eyebrow, an amused smile playing at the corner of her lips. "You have no intention of getting out, do you?"

"Nope."

She sighed, as if greatly inconvenienced. Nonetheless, the blonde girl pushed herself off the bed and stood, bearing her weight on her good leg and using the metal bed-end to steady herself. She swivelled herself into position and dropped herself onto the American's lap, feeling his hands on her hips as he guided her into place.

She settled herself comfortably against his chest, before leaning her head back and turning her face towards his.

"Are you sure this is a good idea? Surely it will not support both of us…"

Wheeler chuckled, brushing his lips against her cheek. She felt his breath warming her skin and she smiled, breathing in the familiar scent of smoke and mint that always seemed to permeate the air around him.

"Are you implying I'm fat, babe?" he murmured against her ear, the light contact causing the hairs on the back of her neck to stand on end. She giggled as he passed his hands over the wheels and rolled their combined weight through the door and out into the corridor.

"Nyet, silly." She frowned at him suddenly, resting her cheek against his and briefly meeting his eyes. "In fact I would say the opposite, Yankee. You look as if you have lost some weight."

She touched his face, running her fingertips over his cheek, then sweeping her thumb upwards to graze the fading scars covering his temple.

Linka bit her lip as she watched him narrow his eyes and tilt his face towards her touch. He slowed their progress and they glided for several feet. They barely noticed Gi overtake them and continue onwards; with Linka's bag hooked over one arm and fielding a phone call with the other. Gi disappeared around the corner as they rolled to a stop outside of a supply room.

He shrugged, wrapping an arm around her and squeezing gently. "It's been a pretty shitty couple of weeks. I guess I haven't been eating as much..." He trailed off as his expression clouded over and she knew the conversation was in danger of shutting down. Linka glanced nervously at him but continued regardless.

"How bad was it?" she said softly, her eyes and fingertips still focused on his temple. "Mishka told me that somebody tried to shoot you."

"Missed by miles," he said ruefully, but his eyes (and temple) told a different story. "But yeah, it got pretty hairy there for a while."

"You went home to your parents?" she asked gently, pressing on in spite of the tensing of Wheeler's chiselled jaw. "How are they?"

"Still breathing," he muttered, returning his hands to the wheel rims and propelling them in a forward direction again.

Her heart sunk as she realised Wheeler wasn't going to elaborate any further.

They rolled to a stop and Linka sighed, leaning forward to press the button for the elevators. "Are we going up?"

"Yeah, we're parked on the helipad," he said, gliding them inside. They sat in silence for a moment, Wheeler's lips pressed close against her forehead and Linka snuggled comfortably within his lap, with her good leg hanging over the arm rest.

They reached the roof and headed towards the helipad. She spotted the Geo-Cruiser straight away. It was no longer gold but silver, with some major modifications evident even from her limited vantage point.

 _"_ _Bozhe moy,"_ she said, staring in wonder at the aircraft as they came to a standstill. He applied the hand-brakes and shifted slightly. Linka glanced at Wheeler in confusion as he placed his feet on the ground and slipped his arms beneath her knees and back.

"End of the road, babe," he said, lifting her easily and carrying her towards the Geo-Cruiser. Gi appeared, folding up the wheel chair and following close behind them, hauling it towards their vehicle.

"You should not be lifting me, Yankee," she said, concern creasing her soft features. She placed her hand against his chest as he ducked in under the main door and gently dropped her into her seat. "You are still… ah, what is this?"

Linka spun around in her chair, feeling a scraping sensation against the back of her arms. She glanced down and saw copious amounts of duct tape wrapped around her seat, as well as under her feet; essentially anchoring the chair to the floor. She looked up in surprise as Gi tossed a canvas pack into her lap.

"What are …" She frowned, although she cottoned on to the joke pretty quickly. "Let me guess, a parachute? Very funny."

Gi snickered as she held up her hands. "Hey, don't look at us, it was Ma-Ti's idea!" Gi smiled down at her before heading over to the drivers seat to start the pre-flight checks.

Her gaze returned to Wheeler as he helped her up and over to a regular chair with a wide grin on his face. She smiled in thanks, reaching for his hand.

"I am sorry about your parents," she said after moment.

He shrugged and smiled, squeezing her fingers and dropping down to his knees to meet her eyes . "Not your fault my parents are assholes, babe."

"But still…"

He shrugged, peering down at her long, graceful fingers gripped within his own. "Can't be disappointed if you don't have any expectations to begin with."

She regarded him with pity but remained silent.

"Oh, I almost forgot!" Wheeler reached into his pocket and pulled out a thin chain. Linka's eyes went wide and she gasped, reaching out in wonder.

"Wheeler, I thought I had lost it…" She trailed off, overwhelmed and emotional at seeing her beloved charm bracelet again. She gripped the silver musical note between her thumb and forefinger, before reaching forward and throwing her arms around Wheeler's shoulders.

"Thank you," she said, her words muffled against the American's neck. She breathed in, feeling more content and at peace than she had in a long while. He hugged her tightly in return, nuzzling her cheek with the tip of his nose.

"It was broken," he said, moving his lips against her ear. "Lucky for you, I know a guy who's really shit at spot-welding." Wheeler pressed his ring against her ribs and she squirmed, her face beaming.

She laughed, leaning back as he fastened the bracelet back over her wrist. "Thank you," she said again breathlessly and Wheeler winked, attempting to stand and return to his seat.

Linka held firmly to his hand however and she pulled him back, his body jerking as the movement left him momentarily unsteady. Wheeler raised his eyebrows in surprise as she pulled him back down to his knees, to her level.

 _"_ Uh…" she began, her face growing hotter with each passing second. Linka swallowed, raising her flushed face to meet his vibrant blue eyes. His steady gaze communicated comfort, warmth and love, and she knew she owed it to him (and to herself) to press on, regardless of her discomfort. "Um, could we maybe… ah, talk when I return from Russia?"

Wheeler nodded slowly, his eyes twinkling with delight. "Sure, babe," he said, reaching out and pulling gently on a loose tendril of hair. "On one condition…"

"What is that?" she asked, tilting her head and narrowing her eyes in a manner that Wheeler found completely adorable.

He leaned forward and grinned, stopping just short of their noses touching. "You gotta tell me what your Grandma said just after you woke up! I know it was about me!"

"What?" she retorted, her cheeks reddening even further. "Forget it Yankee!"

"Aw, c'mon! It's been eatin' away at me!" he laughed, delighting in her flustered reaction.

"Nyet, you do not want to know," she muttered, pushing her hair behind her ear and regarding him from beneath her long lashes. "It was a little… inappropriate."

"How inappropriate?" he teased. "Although I can probably guess. She spent the rest of the visit squeezing my biceps and rubbing my chest."

"Da, I noticed that," Linka said, her lips curling into a smile as she shook her head at the memory. "All right, I will tell you when I return. Deal?"

"Yep!" He glanced over at the Water Planeteer, who was craning her neck to try to get a glimpse of what was happening. "I better get to my seat before Gi starts snapping pictures."

He started moving away again but Linka suddenly leaned forward, cupping his face in her hands and brushing her lips gently against his. She pulled back slightly but her hands remained where they were, stroking her thumbs over his rough skin. Wheeler's momentary surprise was fleeting as he leaned forwards and captured her soft lips within his own.

Linka's breath hitched in her chest as he wrapped his cast arm around her neck and pulled her further towards him, raising himself and leaning over her. She gasped as she felt his tongue tenderly touch her own and she opened her mouth, deepening the contact. He angled himself until her face was tilting upwards, guided by his other hand resting against her cheek and hair.

They broke apart after a moment, regaining their breath as Wheeler glanced over his shoulder. He kissed her neck and she sighed before he moved away.

"We have an audience," he muttered, jabbing his thumb in Gi's direction. He smiled down at her. "We'll talk when you get home, yeah?"

Linka nodded shyly, her eyes wide as she pressed her thumb against her bottom lip, lost in thought. She watched him saunter over to the co-pilot's chair, dropping down into it and throwing their pilot a warning look.

"Shut up, Gi," he muttered in a low voice.

The blonde smiled to herself, gazing out the window and knowing that the next two weeks in Russia would be made all the more bearable knowing that she had Wheeler to come home to.

~Fin~

 **And we're done… I will definitely do a one-shot in the coming weeks. It won't be straight away, as I have a huge amount on. It'll definitely be an 'M' rating, so you won't find it in on the main page. Keep checking, or put me down as an 'Author Alert' if you want to be notified.**

 **I really hope you liked it. Thanks to all my regular reviewers, you guys have been amazing!**


End file.
